The Second Lord
by Niyin
Summary: AU: Merlin lives as Lord Emrys, leader of the druids, with his people far away from publicity; only leaving his hide to save other sorcerers from execution. But then three of the druids decide to take matters into their hands, and kidnap Prince Arthur...
1. Chapter 1: Hope dies last

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone!  
>Sry, I just couldn't resist starting this story... the plot bunny would have killed me ;). So well, here is the first chapter- a pretty small first, like always with my stories.<br>Thanks to everyone who reads this, and especially those who review at the end. And a special thanks to Kaminari Rin, who- by saying it sounded like a good story- convinced me into just trying. This is an AU-fic, set before Merlin came to Camelot. Well, the only really AU-thingy is that I completely changed his childhood... ;D  
>Now, enjoy and please R&amp;R!<strong>

**Summary:  
>Merlin lives as Lord Emrys, leader of the druids, with his people far away from the cities. This way, he can protect the sorcerers from execution without getting known. It works out well, until three druids decide to take matters into their hands and kidnap Prince Arthur Pendragon, hoping to blackmail King Uther and get their revenge.<br>With the King planning to fight the former-secret community rather than give in and the druids suddenly up for revenge, how can Merlin avoid war and convince the Prince that magic isn't all bad?  
>NO SLASH.<br>**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Merlin... -.-**

**Chapter 1: Hope dies last**

Arthur didn't have time to scream.  
>Not that he would have <em>screamed<em>, mind you. More like _shouted_ for the guards- he was the crowned Prince after all- but, annoyingly, he didn't even have time for that. The three black-dressed men took him too much by surprise. I mean, who would expect anyone, least of all three highly dangerous assassins, to suddenly appear in your chambers? Well?

So, Arthur couldn't be blamed that he just sat frozen as they approached him, sneering behind the black masks. (What was it with bandits and black, anyway?)  
>One man stared at the book on the desk before Arthur and laughed.<p>

"Oh, did we interrupt your reading, _sire_?"

How could anyone possibly lay so much hatred in such an innocent word?  
>Arthur flushed to his embarrassment, quickly shutting the book, and tried to subtly search his sword instead.<br>_Of course _it had to lean against his bed, in the other corner of the room, where the Prince had left it after this afternoon's training.

"Not so talkative today, eh? Sad, we've heard you could make damn good speeches."

Arthur barely heard the mockery, as his mind raced.

_Say something, anything. Keep them distracted. Maybe the guards will look in._

There was no really great chance of that; but hope dies last, doesn't it?  
>Thoughts still spinning, the Prince felt his mouth open completely by itself.<p>

"That's no book, actually, just... records. Yes, records."

_Gods, have I really just said that?_  
>The bandits laughed and Arthur flushed even more, quickly closing his traitorous mouth before it could spill any more stupidity. <em>At least it worked.<em>

"Whateva ya say, my Lord."

The grin was clear in the second assassin's voice and Arthur needed all his willforce to stay impassive.  
><em>Where are those guards when you need them<em>? He should really upgrade Camelot's security system. If they found a way to protect themselves from appearing sorcerers, that is.

_And if I survive this._

Strangely, the thought didn't bother Arthur as much as one would think. It simply sounded too _ridiculous_ to be true.  
>Who knew three assassins, armed with swords and magic, that had just turned up out of thin air, wasn't enough to convince the Prince of his possible death?<br>_Stupid hope._

A movement caught his attention and Arthur forced himself to smile at the again approaching bandits.

"So, what do you want from me?" he asked casually, discreetly lifting and taking one step to the right. He had left his dagger somewhere on the floor, Arthur was sure of it.  
>Not as good as a sword, but nearer.<br>The sorcerers seemed taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered.

"So we're gettin' to business now, are we? Well, first we just want-"

"Revenge?" the Prince interrupted, absent-mindedly searching the ground. "Gold? My death?"

There it was, next to the pile of dirty clothes. Just out of reach, as it had to be. Suppressing a sigh, Arthur took another step to the right, arranging a few papers like an excuse as he pointedly ignored the bandit's stares.

_Only one step..._

The one that had spoken first, obviously their leader, seemed to frown. "How... ?"  
>Arthur smiled, fighting to look untroubled as the third bandit took a step forward, unintentionally blocking his path.<p>

"Oh, believe it or not, you're not the first ones. And by far not the most intimidating. Really, black _masks_? It isn't carnival yet, is it?"

Ignoring his protesting sense of self-preservation, Arthur took a step around his desk towards them, reaching out for the mask of the one blocking his way to the knife. As expected, the bandit at first backed away in surprise, before he growled and rushed at the Prince.

His sword met the desk behind Arthur with a loud clink- or rather, behind where Arthur _had_ been a second sorcerers stared at the empty place in confusion, before their gazes lifted to find a now armed Prince standing only a few feet away. Arthur grinned at their looks.

"Like I said, not the best ones. Else you would have learned to never let your victim get up in the first place."

There was a short, unbelieving silence, before all three men howled in anger and lunged forward at once.  
>Arthur, expecting the attack, lifted his dagger just in time to block the first blow, sending the bandit flying back with his force. The man crashed into the desk, taking one of his companions with him. And not a second too soon, as a moment later Arthur already crouched low to dodge the third's sword. His foot shot out, meeting the sorcerer's stomach with a satisfying gasp.<p>

The Prince straightened again, blocking the second bandit, who had recovered quickly from his fall, and pushed him back down. A brief glance at the door.

_Why the hell did this guards take so long? Surely, someone must have heard the noise of their fight?_

It didn't even occur to Arthur that his attackers hadn't used any spells so far, despite- given their entrance- clearly being capable to do so. That is, until suddenly one of the bandits was _gone_. Vanished as quickly as he had come, but this time the man left the other two.

Arthur furrowed his brows, worriedly glancing around the chambers.

He didn't have to search long, for only seconds later the world seemed to erupt in pain. The Prince's back arched, instinctively trying to get away from the pain, when he cried in agony and fury. Another sting as the sword was pulled out of his side again and Arthur swept round, one hand covering his wound while he stared at the grinning bandit.

The dagger moved almost on its own accord, burying itself deep in the man's sword arm. He screamed, letting go of the weapon so it hit the ground with a cold clang, that reverberated in Arthur's ears like a broken bell.

Though the Prince barely noticed two of the bandits stumbling past him to hold their wounded comrade. Everything seemed to blur, the only clear thing being pain and red, so much red that it soaked his shirt and dripped down, covering the floor with stains.

Blood. _My blood._

The thought was too far away in his slow-processing brain to really worry Arthur, but still it seemed wrong.  
>Deadly wrong.<p>

The Prince swayed, only noticing that he had lost the knife when he grabbed his desk for support. Red sprayed on all the important papers, months of work, as Arthur's feet gave in under him.

_Father won't be happy._

Strong arms grasped him before he could hit the ground and the Prince stared in shock at cold eyes behind the black mask, dark symbols covering the arms where the cloak had slipped.

_Druids._

Arthur didn't realize he had spoken aloud until the man smirked icily.

"Didn't expect the peaceful folk to get angry for slaughtering us like animals, eh? Well, not for long, now that we have Camelot's dear Prince. Emrys will be pleased."

The words didn't fully reach Arthur's mind, as suddenly the door burst open to reveal two completely confused guards.

_Only a few minutes too late._  
>The thought filled him with hysterical giggling that the Prince quickly suppressed.<em><br>Seem strong, even in pain or death. A weak king has already lost his throne._  
>His father's words were clear, logical, and Arthur clung to them like a lifeline.<p>

"Sire? Are you alright? We are-"

Arthur would never know what exactly the guards were, for the druid suddenly seemed to hold him tighter, and an instant later all four of them- bandits and Prince- were covered in a glowing blue orb. As his chambers slowly faded around the magical wall, the Prince felt his consciousness also slipping. The last thing he saw were trees, old and tall trees which certainly didn't belong to Camelot, then everything disappeared again to a deep black.

That was the moment Arthur officially declared his hope dead.

**What do you think would you like to hear more? Interesting enough to be continued? I hope so...**

**Next chapter (if I ever get to write it- well, depending on the reviews I receive) we will learn a bit more about Merlin and his role as Lord Emrys. Maybe they will even meet? :D I haven't really planned it out yet. Like I said, I'm waiting how you like it.**

**Now, please review and tell me... ;)  
><strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Red and Gold

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone :)  
>I really never expected such a great response to this idea. 12 reviews- wow! Thanks to everyone who wrote one of them, alerted or favourited this fic :D.<br>Here's the second chapter, in which you get to know Merlin as Lord Emrys. I'm sorry they don't meet yet, that will come in the next chapter :). To all who read Master of Thiefs: I had to decide between writing the next chapter for this fic or for MoT... finally decided on this, but I'll still try to continue MoT soon :D.  
>Now enjoy, and please R&amp;R! ;D<br>**

**Disclaimer: This is always the same... and thanks to school, no progress on the blackmailing-side ;).  
><strong>

**Chapter 2: Red and Gold**

The flames were everywhere around them, dancing and glowing with way too happy red and gold as fire bit skin. A piece of wood cracked and broke under their force, accompanied by the man's swearing as the ash burned in his eyes and lungs. For a moment, small sparks illuminated the dark cloak like a coat of liquid gold.

The fire had almost risen up a man's height now, easily hiding the ducked figures from the villager's view. In some ways, he was glad those boys had seen him last time. The whispered rumours hadn't led to discovery like they feared, but rather resulted in a bigger fire. After all, the peasants had to make sure every rest of the evil witch was burned. It wouldn't do for her soul to manifest as a black shadow, as it _obviously _had last time, and simply search another victim.

_Gossip. _Oh, how he sometimes hated it.

His lips parted in a bitter smirk, only lasting seconds before he clamped one gloved hand over it in an attempt to suppress his coughing. _Note to self: _Don't open your mouth in the middle of a hot, smoky fire. Manifesting souls were alright. _Coughing_ manifesting souls less so.

Another wood broke in a coat of merrily dancing sparks, part of the pyre crumbling and collapsing. Luckily it was an outer part. Still, the girl screamed in pain as the sparks touched her bare arms and legs, forcing him to swear again. _Second note: _Getting sidetracked in the middle of the same hot, smoky fire didn't do anyone any good either. Now the poor girl was most likely marked for the rest of her life, given the size of those flying coals. He hadn't yet found a way to make scars fade.

_Emotional even less than physical._

The man sighed and warily passed one hand before his face, careful not to remove the hood. She wouldn't forget this anyway, with or without the scars. No one could.

And she was still so young, barely more than 15 years old by the looks of it. An innocent face framed with angelic golden hair that originally must have fallen on her thin shoulders in wild locks, but now hung dirty and lifeless as the fire tore this beautiful innocence from both her eyes and her soul. The light, smooth skin was covered with dirt and blood, dark bruises shining through at places, mostly on the back where she had been whipped. Despite the obvious pain she held her eyes closed, not ready to give in to tears like anyone else would, maybe excluding himself and some of the Elders. Her breathing hitched dangerously as she backed up further against the stake, making her back burn and ripping her wrists open in a hopeless fight against the manacles.

"_Witch! Come, let the filthy sorceress burn!"_

His stomach churned in disgust, making him want to get out of this bloody fire and teach those foolish peasants never to use such words again. Oh, he had heard them talking, only a few days ago, about the skilled young physician. Funny how quickly they could reduce somebody to the enemy.

_But then again, people always can. Especially with someone who had no family._

With a last disdainful glance at the moving shadows on the other side of the wall of fire, he forced himself to take a step forward through the flames, reaching for the curled-up girl.

The moment he touched her shoulder, her eyes snapped open and she instinctively tried to back away, hissing as the flames came in contact with her skin. He didn't even hear the sound, simultaneously drawing a sharp breath in.

_Brown. _He knew that eye colour too well. But how was this even possible? And exactly the same shade too, soft brown with green speckles, like a doe...

He only noticed that his fingers were digging into her shoulder when she bit her lip painfully, but then he instantly let go and took a step back, raising his hands in a sign of peace.

_Great. When you appear as a black-hooded stranger on the pyre of someone, just make sure to also hurt and frighten them a bit more._

"It's OK, don't worry. I'll get you out of here."

It was most likely the crappiest consoling speech every, he could see it in her distrustful stare, but then her eyes suddenly grew wide with surprise and something akin to hope.

"Emrys?"

It was barely more than a whisper in the crackling of the fire, before she doubled over, grimacing at a sudden wave of pain- but still it was enough to freeze him for another second.

How could she possible know...?

His eyes narrowed curiously, debating on the best answer. In the end, he decided for the truth. She would know soon anyway.

"Yes."

The simple word made a whole chandelier of light opening oer face as she smiled weakly, her gaze suddenly unreadable.

"I knew you would come."

All at once her face contorted again painfully and she doubled over, seemingly losing consciousness as she hit the wood. The shackles stopped her head from meeting the branches in the last moment, holding her limp form halfway up.

Emrys swore loudly and was at her side in a second, quickly checking pulse and breathing. It wouldn't do for her to die now. He couldn't lose those eyes again, after just one look...

...there. It was weak, barely noticeable, but still _there_.

He suppressed a relieved smile at the slow heart beats, carefully leaning her thin frame against his shoulder to get a better hold of her arms. Only his strong will allowed him not to let go as they instantly became sticky with blood and she whimpered at the touch.

Again, the heat of his fury surprised him. How could those peasants destroy something so beautiful, simply because she had special powers? This girl had helped them with all her medical knowledge, only to be as a thank you burned for her gifts. Just like so many others before her. _All because one man's guilt._

A King shouldn't blame things on others. He shouldn't teach his subjects to kill innocent people on suspicion and rather how to show mercy. But King Uther hadn't been a really good king in a long time and it was tearing Camelot apart- magic against swords, brother against sister. Destroying everything in the process.

He was trying to help secretly, save those who were condemned to death and cool the minds of angry men, calling for war, but even the mighty Emrys could only do so much. And it was never enough.  
>He wanted to show them. Of course Emrys knew that his small community could only survive as long as it was kept secret, that this was his only way to save lives. But there were still times when he just wished he could stand up and show them, Uther in particular, what it felt like to die on stake, alone and hated by everyone.<p>

The girl's groan pulled hm out of his dark reverie just in time, as already the first flames reached them, licking greedily at her golden hair. The man shook his head to clear his mind again, softly cursing himself.

_Dreaming fool. _What was it with getting sidetracked in the middle of the fire? There was really no need to let the poor girl pay for his own memories and experiences. They were hard enough for one to bear.

"Ábæde ús æt sé friþsumum bearunæse!"

His voice was less than a whisper, too raw for his liking, but the magic reacted immediately. Warm glory ran high in his veins, cursing through his whole body, only visible to anyone else in the golden glowing eyes. A whirl of black and red fell like a cloak around the two kneeling figures and engulfed them as the scenery became blurred and faded. Colours flew around them, twisting in various pattern, before the cyclone of magic slowly died down and left both alone on the forest floor.

The warlock sank down, unable to hold himself awake as his power left him with sudden weakness. Still he smiled when the world turned black again.

The others were nearby like he had told them to. They would find the girl and keep her safe. As for him... a last movement passed through his body, magic once again enwrapping and concealing him, before Emrys finally gave up and welcomed the peaceful darkness.

When the druids arrived, all they could see was the battered body of a girl on the floor.

The people in the village never even noticed that their witch had disappeared once again rather than died.

_xXx_

The waking was always the worst.

There was the one moment of total confusion, not knowing where he was or how he had come here and in this position. Then came the pain. His back hurt like hell from spending the night on the hard forest floor. A particular nasty stone was digging into his left side and he shifted painfully, groaning as his whole body protested. His left arm burned at contact with the dry leaves, being red and raw from touching the flames. A throbbing head ache had settled over night, turning his every movement into a new wave of agony. His mouth was dry and sticky, the throat sore as if he had spent the last evening screaming. And if that all wasn't enough, the blood had dried and made his skin itchy and hard like a strange mask.  
>But this whole pain was nothing against the feeling of utter exhaustion that always accompanied too much use of magic.<p>

Merlin carefully lifted his head to gaze at the surrounding forest, but then let it fall down again with a thud. Only a few more minutes...

"You fools!"

"Why? Better thank us. We've saved y'all a lot of trouble!"

The warlock groaned softly and lifted his head again to stare at the four men that were just about to enter the clearing. So much for having a few moments of _peace_ and _quiet_.

"You don't get it, do you?"

Merlin frowned as he recognized the voice of the druid leader, Iseldir. The usually ever-calm man looked rather worryingly furious at his three companions. Their cloaks identified them as lower druids, three known troublemakers, of which one currently held his bandaged arm. Slightly alarmed, Merlin rubbed his temples painfully, before he heaved himself up and adjusted his black cloak, waiting patiently until the world stopped turning. Only then he showed himself to the four men.

For a moment there was only startled silence- to the four it must seem like he had appeared out of thin air.

_Which I kind of have,_ the warlock pondered. _If 'invisible' is seen the same as 'disappeared'._

Unsurprisingly, Iseldir was the first to recover.

"Ah, Emrys. We were looking for you."

Merlin almost rolled his eyes at the relieved tone.

"What is it now?"

"We have the Prince" one of the men, the wounded one, threw in before Iseldir had the chance to speak. For a moment everything seemed to freeze in confusion. Even the birds fell silent, listening intently.

"_You_ have the _Prince_?" Merlin repeated with barely covered shock. The three men didn't notice his tone, nor the quick glance Iseldir and Merlin exchanged, as they stood with pride-swelled chests.

"Yeah. Right off his golden chambers. Should've seen that look... ain't no great king in his dirty clothes, is he?"

Both Iseldir and Merlin just stared at him in shock, and slowly the man seemed to comprehend his mistake. "What? A 'Thank you, James' would be nice. Was me after all who planned it."

"James" Merlin said _very_ calm to the sulking man. "You know that kidnapping the Crown Prince is seen as an act of war?"

The druid just beamed at him, his two companions nodding enthusiastically to every word. Iseldir sighed hopelessly.

"Of course we will have war! We will force the King to give up his throne, won't we, and then we conquer Camelot and those damn bloody idiots will regret ever chasing us. Happy end'n all."

The druid leader looked on the brink of tearing his hair out at the speech. Merlin knew exactly what he felt like.

"So you thought you would just kidnap him, right?"

They nodded, big smiles plastered on their faces.

"And Uther won't search his son, will he?"

A mutual shaking of their heads, though this time a tad unsure. _Some brain, after all._

"And surely he won't kill random peasants either?"

Finally the stupid grins were replaced with a slight frown.

"Well, I thought-"

"No!" Merlin interrupted him harsh, taking a step towards their obvious leader. He was glad for the hood to hide his grim smile when all three backed away, suddenly not all-confident anymore. Merlin usually didn't want to scare people, but for the life he lived grim, always-hooded and mighty Emrys was so much more useful than friendly Merlin.

"No" he repeated softer. "You didn't think at all. The King has to see your petty kidnapping as an attack to his honour, land and life. It is an act of war and will be treated as such. Within the week Camelot will have sent the news everywhere and form countless search parties. Uther will start another purge on the citizens- innocent men and women, loved families. No one is safe." He paused to let his words sink in. "I would give us, let's say, a week until we are found and maybe another one to form an army and overrun us. I am powerful" he added with a meaningful glare, seeing their protests "and I will protect you as long as I can. But not even I am able to stop a whole army."

The two quieter men seemed to have understood, both staring sheepishly and a little guilty at their feet, but their leader still gazed at Merlin with a strange small frown.

"Well-"

"Stop!"

This time it was Iseldir who interrupted James. "You have already done enough today. For your actions, you will spend a week in the cave. Without talking, little food and only the water from the walls. Maybe then you all can see clearer. And now go. I'm sure Lord Emrys has better things to do than listen to your rambling."

Without another word, all three bowed shortly and left, James only after sending a glare in Merlin's direction.  
>The warlock and the druid leader waited until they were out of hearing distance before Merlin nodded thankfully. His head still felt like it had gotten under a heavy warhorse's hooves, making it hard to concentrate, and his whole being strained to just lie down and rest right here and now. Merlin sighed. Why couldn't his life be simple only once?<p>

"Prince Arthur is in the Red cave and, I believe, still unconscious" Iseldir's quiet voice broke his thoughts. When Merlin looked up he caught the older man's sympathetic look, which strangely and despite his hatred of pity didn't bother him anymore. Iseldir was as close to a father as Merlin had had in years and one of the only who had seen Merlin's face and dared to talk freely. Plus, there was no reason to deny his exhaustion- the druid leader knew strong magic's effects better than anyone. So Merlin just shrugged, both falling silent for a few minutes.

A bird resumed his song above them, the clear notes reverberating softly in the chilly air of late evening, almost like a lullaby. The last sun rays formed a beautiful pattern of light and shadows on the forest floor, only making it even more inviting to lie down and rest. Merlin blinked heavily, working hard to resist the temptation.  
>Finally, Iseldir broke the sleepy silence again.<p>

"What will you do now?"

The warlock debated for a second before he forced a careless smile on his face, even though the other man was unlikely to see it under the hood and less to be deceived.

"Well how about returning to the camp? I believe there's a Prince waiting yearningly for my visit."

**Hope you liked it... just a few things:**

**1. The girl in the fire isn't a love interest for Merlin. She just reminds him of someone from his family who was killed sometime ago.  
>2. While Iseldir is the druid leader and first of the Elders, Merlin (Lord Emrys) is their King, so they will always come with thier smaller problems to Iseldir and with the bigger ones to Merlin.<br>3. Apart from Iseldir, virtually no one there knows what Merlin looks like. Basically so he could be the 'great Emrys' and isn't seen as some stupid half-grown.  
>4. "Ábæde ús æt sé friþsumum bearunæse!" = "Take us to the safe shore!"<br>**

**Review Responses:  
><strong>

**Clairepenndragon: **Woah, I'm really gald you think it's great. Thanks! :D  
>Merlin will meet Arthur next chapter... it's from Arthur's POV and he is pretty angry, that will be fun to write^^. I'll try to get it done soon, though I'll write the next chapter for Master of Thiefs first, so it could still take a while.<p>

**minnie: **Thanks for your review :D. After this response, I'll definitely continue, though I don't really know all of the plot yet... well, we'll see^^.

**zara: **Thanks for your review and the confidence boost. It helped a lot! :D I hope this came soon enough... :)

**Kthln: **Thank you for your review :). I never thought so many people would like the idea- but well, I'm definitely glad you do :D. I'll try to update soon, though might take a while.

**So... I'm really happy everyone liked last chapter so much and hope you liked this one as well... if not, please tell me what to change. If you do... well, I can always use confidence boosts :).  
>Anyway, I try to continue soon, like I already said to some, but it might take a while. Hope you don't mind too much :D. Oh, and this chapter was surprisingly long for me. Please don't expect me to keep this length- I'll probably be back down on half of it next chapter ;).<br>**


	3. Chapter 3: Emrys

**Author's Note:**

**Hi y'all:D!  
>What's that- I'm updating?! Yep, and once again I'm sorry. But (my excuse this time^^) this chapter was really hard to write. I didn't really know what Merlin and Arthur would talk about (still don't know), so I rewrote this about 4 times... that's the most with any of my chapters so far. At the end, I decided to get (relatively) straight to the talking. I'm still not really happy about how it turned out (like I said- didn't know what they would talk about, so it got pretty random in my opinion. My excuse for that is that Merlin 1. wants to find out what Arthur's like 2. has made some bad experience with Uther). So, before I ramble on, thanks for all the wonderful reviews, alerts and favourites- you guys are awesome! :D<br>Enjoy and please R&R.  
><strong>

**Chapter 3: Emrys  
><strong>

The first thing Arthur was aware of was pain.

His head pounded wildly, his temples nearly bursting with each heartbeat, and his whole body felt stiff and cramped. Waves of heat and cold were rocking through his weak form, forcing the Prince to shudder unwillingly.  
>The small movement was just a bit too much to bear.<p>

Arthur barely suppressed a gasp as his left side flared angrily, icy fire running through his veins to gather at one point until the pain was excruciating. His mouth filled with the bitter flavor of metal and it took him a few more seconds to realize that he had bitten his tongue.

The Prince drew in a shuddering breathe, carefully easing his muscles like he had been taught to as he choked momentarily on his own blood. Each movement was rewarded with a new flash of agony.

_I have to calm down_, he realized painfully, taking another gasp of air. Struggling would only make things even worse.  
><em>Just breathe. <em>That couldn't be too hard, could it?

His side flared up in protest and Arthur gritted his teeth, resuming a regular rhythm of breath.

_In – out. In – out. In- out. That's right, relax. Everything will be OK.__  
><em>

The soothing voice in his mind belonged to Leon (not his father, no, never him), transporting Arthur back to when he had received his first battle wound. The pain of the shallow cut was nearly overwhelming to a 12-year-old, but he wouldn't- _couldn't_- cry. There were men with injuries far worse than his. Expectations in the young Prince.

_Now, lie down on your back and put your arms to your sides. The sooner you relax, the sooner your wound will stop hurting.__  
>That's it.<em>

Arthur waited for the pain to subside before he slowly moved his arms to rest lightly next to him. A small clinking noise broke his concentration, reminding the Prince once again of his surroundings.

The floor beneath him was hard and uneven, cold seeping through Arthur's clothing, but that wasn't what had woken him. Neither had the uncomfortable position or pain. There was an uncomfortable nagging in the back of his mind, old instincts pricking up.

_Someone was watching him._

Only years of training and self control prevented Arthur from tensing and reaching for his sword. He wouldn't be surprised if whoever was watching him had taken him away anyway.

Instead, the Prince waited another few heartbeats and then slowly opened one eye, just far enough to glance at his surroundings. It met a greyish red ceiling, covered with cracks and columns.

_Definitely not my room, if they haven't decorated Camelot new over night. _Morgana had once managed to convince a few servants to do so with his room. Arthur could vividly remember waking up to a painted snake looming right above his head. He definitely _hadn't_ screamed ot jumped out of his bed in a rush, rolling his right ankle in the process. The painting had disappeared by the afternoon of the same day. Arthur never tried to behead Morgana's dolls again.

A pained smile crossed his features at the memory, before the Prince pulled himself back to reality to investigate his situation further.

The red ceiling changed into walls of the same material without any edge or visible seam, making the whole thing look like a small reddish sky.

A sky secured with bars, spreading above a ground covered in rubble and smaller rocks. From one corner came the sound of dripping water. In the other was the only opening plus the bars, through which Arthur could make out a long passageway. A small blue orb of light was floating quietly beneath the ceiling, providing just enough light to see everything clearly.

_A cavern_, the Prince realized with a start. _This isn't even a real dungeon, it's only a cave-turned-prison. Which means it can't be all that safe, can it?_  
>Even if the sight of the magical light was slightly disconcerting.<p>

Arthur frowned as he remembered the three druids barging into his room earlier. Great, so he was wounded and captured by three idiotic and highly dangerous sorcerers who held him prison in a cave somewhere in a strange wood and most likely miles away from Camelot. What would come next- a torture chamber out of wood? Tall, imposing strangers with dark cloaks?

There was a slight and almost polite cough and Arthur was spinning round, ignoring the pain in his side, to come to face with a tall black-cloaked silhouette behind the bars at the entrance of the cave.

_Good guess. _Though he wasn't one of the three sorcerers that had caught him, being even taller._  
><em>

"Who are you?"

There was no answer, but Arthur had the feeling of being scrutinized as he tried to get up. He wouldn't sit around when there was a sorcerer on the other side of the cave.

Sadly his legs gave in under him before he could straighten up and the Prince noticed only now that there was as chain around his left foot, clinking with every movement as it chained him to the wall.  
>It only helped to strengthen his fury.<p>

"Well then, do you know who I am?" Arthur knew the question was pretty pointless, having been kidnapped by this gang of druids, but that didn't make him stop. It was more on principle than an actual question anyway. "My name is Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot. I'm sure that by now my father has already formed an army and is on his way. Don't worry, he'll find me. And then _you_ will be the one withering in the dungeons with your companions, while I'm thinking about the best way to kill you. Fire seems appropriate, I guess."

The dark figure stood completely still, though Arthur thought he had heard a soft sigh.

"Or of course, you let me go and I make sure that you get a fair triel back in Camelot. It's your choice."

_"Prat."__  
><em>

The word was quiet enough so Arthur wasn't sure he hadn't just imagined it.

"Sorry?"

The figure chuckled bitter and Arthur was surprised by how high the man's voice sounded. He had imagined a deeper, richer voice. More powerful.

"Great choice you're giving me. Dying immediately or after a '_fair _trial'…"

Arthur felt himself blushing slightly. The way this sorcerer spoke, his words sounded almost ridiculous, even to his own ears. But it was really their own fault for kidnapping him- what had they expected, glory and fame?  
>Arthur opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the sorcerer.<p>

"You know what? I'll take option three."

The Prince cocked his head, careful so not to show the pain that was still radiating from his wound.

"And which one is option three?"

Strangely, this made the sorcerer chuckle again.

"How about killing you for revenge and then disappearing before Uther has a chance to find me?"

"You won't."

The sureness in his voice surprised both of them and the sorcerer moved for the first time to take a step forward, gazing curiously at Arthur. The Prince did his best to suppress a nervous shudder as he felt the eyes on him like a physical force. The scanning continued for a few more seconds before the sorcerer turned away abruptly.

"What makes you so sure?"

Arthur shrugged, hissing quietly when his side sent a jolt of pain through his body.

"You could have killed me right then and there, without making your hands dirty. It doesn't make sense to kidnap someone simply to kill them."

"A blond with brains. Oh, aren't you a clever boy."

The Prince stared back impassive, even though the sarcastic comment had hit him. Luckily his instincts to survive were still stronger than the insult.

_There's enough time for the fury once I get out_, he told himself.

"And so strong… just like your father."  
>That was it.<p>

"Don't you dare talking about my father and me like that!"

"…and a just as stubborn prat."

Arthur pulled furiously at his chains, almost instantly doubling over in pain. So he settled on snarling dangerously instead.

"Oh, I'm sorry- have I hurt your delicate feelings, _my Lord_?"

The biting sarcasm vanished abruptly, making way to sharp disdain.

"Just remember who's in power here. Now, about option three?" The sorcerer paused for a moment, already turning to walk away. "We'll start with getting you a healer. Then we can decide what to do."

Arthur just blinked at his retreating back in shock. Only when the sorcerer was almost gone did he notice something.

"Hey! You still haven't told me your name!"

The figure stopped dead for a moment, a black silhouette against the lighter tunnel. Then with a swish of his cloak he was gone, leaving only a single word floating through the cave as the echo multiplied his whisper, thousands of voices repeating the same word. A name that was yet to gain celebrity and be remembered for ages to come in the stories and legends of a whole country, and then world.

Not that Arthur knew this as he sat alone in his suddenly much emptier cave, pondering about the strange druid. And wondering what their talk had all been about.

The Prince sighed softly, turning so he lay on his good side. He could at least make himself comfortable, until that healer arrived the strange druid had spoken about. Or he himself returned.

"Emrys."

**Now, what do you think? I really hope it's only my usual doubts about the chapter... well, if you like it, please review so I can relax. If you don't... still review to tell me what I have to change :D.**

**Review Responses:  
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**Clairepenndragon: **Hi and thanks once again... seems I can't thank you foten enough :D. At the same time, I'm sorry for the wait, like I always am... *sigh* guess that'll never change.  
>Anyways, glad you thought it was worth the wait and I hope this one was worth it too... :)<br>Woah, thanks! (And there you see what I mean with always thanking^^.) That didn't sound cheesy at all... well, maybe a bit... but seriously, thanks. That's one of the greatest compliments I ever got :D. That my style of writing is good enough for someone to reread my stories and comment on it... just, wow.  
>(Even if I give you enough time to read it about 100 times, with my slow updates... ;D.)<p>

**zara: **Firstly, thank you. Happy it made someone's day, the review certainly made mine... :D  
>Then, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,... I can't say it often enough. By now, you should be home again from wherever you went. Really, I read your review and started to write this chapter the same day- and then thought it was crap, and started agin. And again. And again... so, sorry if you hate me now. And justifiably so... I hope the chapter made up for some of it though, even if it did come way too late.<p>

**Well, I can only say I'm trying to update faster. My priority is Master of Thiefs (which took me 'only' two months to update... crap. I'm too slow -.-), but I will try and find some time for this story too.  
>But please, don't expect too much- school will start again soon and take away pretty much all my time and I don't know how much I can do until then.<strong>

**To all of you who read Master of Thiefs, I have the next chapter written! Only have to type and then post it. I'm a terribly slow typer, but that shouldn't take too long :D. Just so you've got _something_ by me to look forward to...  
><strong>

**What's more to say? Just as always, please review and I'll try and write.  
><strong>


	4. Chapter 4: Prattish Problems

**Author's Note:  
><strong>

******Hi everyone!  
>I'm back again with a new chapte- the second this week (even if the first was for another story)! :D<br>This one is dedicated to all who should be doing something very different right now, like doing their homework (just like me), learning for the exam tomorrow (me), preparing a presentation (again me),... :) I'm glad you have decided to read this instead (though of course I don't want to keep you from learning ;P).  
>This chapter is from Merlin's POV, with a bit of Freya (in younger version), because I just seem to like her as a child. Though this version of her is 12 and Merlin's 19, so if you want you can imagine some kind of romance when they're older. 7 years isn't a huge difference. Also I know that Freya seems OOC and strict here, but she's just worried.<br>As always, a huge thank you for all the alerts, favs and reviews! You are all great, seriously! :)  
>Now, have fun and please R&amp;R... :D<br>**

**Disclaimer: I don't own. It's much more interesting to read the spoilers and wait for the next episode of Merlin on saturday. Even though I can't wait... :)  
><strong>

**Chapter 4: Prattish Problems**

Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot was a prat.  
>An arrogant, overbearing, pompous prat with an ego almost as big as his country.<p>

And Merlin didn't know what to do with him.

Of course letting the Prince go wasn't an option. The warlock had enough experience with Uther's 'fair' trials to spit on them. And curse. And spit again. But neither could he kill Pendragon or simply leave him to rod in that cave. They would need it for the animals in winter.

Not to mention the hunt Uther would arrange. Their hiding place wasn't the best or safest, despite all spells Merlin had cast to ensure their un-traceability.  
>It was hard enough to hide an entire village that big, most sorcerers would even call it impossible, and none of his magic could elude someone searching directly for long.<p>

He was stuck in a damn predicament. If he set the Prince free, they would be found and killed after a pretended trial. If he didn't, they would still be found and killed, just without hesitance.

Merlin sighed and massaged his temples, feeling the growing headache. He was exhausted from the spells necessary to save that girl, annoyed and desperately in need of a good night's sleep and some mor time to think. Right now he couldn't think clear enough to pass a decision that was this important.

And whatever decision he made would ultimately doom his camp. The Prince's promise of a death in the flames was too real to ignore.

A sudden pain in his hands interrupted the young warlock's train of thought and he glanced down, startled, to find blood on his palms. As he stretched them, small half-moon formed circles became clear where his nails had dug in the pale skin. A small drop of blood formed and ran down his fingers, lingering at their tip for a moment before it fell and splayed on the dry brown leefs.

Soon winter would arrive and freeze everything to turn the loud moved forest into a cold and still scenery. The snow always glimmered and glowed in the light like millions of diamonds, ready to be picked up by anyone who just happened to come by.

He would probably not live to see this year's winter.

The thought hit Merlin with the power of a galloping horse, throwing him off-guard and gasping, his foggy mind suddenly very clear.

He had to return with the Prince to Camelot before Uther could kill any more innocents. There he could pretend to threaten the Prince - Uther surely wouldn't be surprised by the "You killed my family, now watch your son die"- speech – which would of course be thwarted and he arrested. Naturally that meant that Merlin would be killed just as Pendragon had said, but that way he could at least save the camp. Uther would hopefully be too focused on 'eliminating the threat' to notice that he wasn't the only druid, and even if the King _did_ notice Merlin could still boast how he had managed to 'confuse the Prince and kidnap him' all by himself. It was a huge sacrifice, but one life was better than a hundred.

He had never before thought about death.

Of course Merlin knew he had to die one day. He wasn't stupid. With his style of life it would be sooner rather than later. Every time he rescued someone, the warlock planned for the case that he didn't make it.  
>But now the date suddenly had come so close. It was very possible that he might not see the next week. And all of a sudden Merlin realized something through the shock.<p>

He didn't want to die.  
>He was too young and, however petty or cliché that sounded, it was just not <em>right<em>.

He wanted to live his life to the last second.

He wanted to travel the world and see more than just Camelot.

He wanted to get a proper grip on his magic to use its full power.

He wanted to fall in love, live through a heartbreak and find new hope.

He wanted to make things right, make magic legal and respected once again.

But right now most of all he wanted to curl up into a tight ball, hide and never come out again.

He wanted- _needed_- his Mom, anyone, to console him and tell him that everything was going to be OK.  
>It was so bloody damn unfair.<p>

"But life is never fair" the young warlock reminded himself quietly. "It is like a hard, cold beast. And still we cling to it like a savior."

"Emrys?"

The voice sounded very small, but still Merlin smiled slightly as he turned around to greet the small girl.

"Freya. What is it?"

Freya nervously tucked her dark hair behind her ear and stared at him with the sweet innocense of a twelve-year-old. "Iseldir said you needed help. Are you hurt?"

Yes, he was.  
>"No. But I know someone who is."<p>

Freya eyed him warily, not finding any obvious wounds or injuries, before she sat down beside him. "Who?"

Merlin suppressed a sigh, knowing that Freya was still reading his body language. The girl was too smart for her age, but that was also why he had grown so fond of her. She was the second person of two people that knew Merlin's true name and face. Plus she made for a pretty great healer.

"Do you still remember how James told everyone that he would get revenge on Camelot?"

Freya nodded. "You were very angry."

"Yes" the warlock said softly, remembering the day. They helped others. Revenge would only destroy everything and lead to even more pain. Just like it did now. "James has kidnapped the Prince of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon. He's in the Red Cave and wounded. As far as I could tell a cut to the left side and a slight concussion."

The mention of the Prince Fraye had perqued up and sat straight now, staring over the trees unseeing. She too had lost her family to Uther's hatred.

A bird began to sing, covering the uncomfortable silence. It was why Merlin liked this place so much- on the top of the hill, he could sit right at the cliff and look over the druid camp and surrounding forest. Only his tent stood up here and only he, Freya and Iseldir ever came to this place.

After a long pause, Freya finally looked up. "Is he dangerous?"

"I will block him with a spell so he can't move before you enter. It will give you enough time and the chance to work on him without fear that he might attack."

Again she considered the new information. "And what are you going to do?"

Merlin feigned ignorance. "Me? I will stand guard by the entrance until you have finished."

Now the girl looked up and straight into his eyes, finding them easily as he had pulled the hood a little back while massaging his temples. Her blue eyes were hard and questioning, assessing the situation. "That's not what I meant and you know it isn't."

Merlin sighed and her eyes grew softer, betraying more of the child she was. "I won't heal him if it will hurt you."

The warlock smiled quickly at the open loyalty and ruffled her hair. "Healing him won't hurt me or anyone else. He shouldn't have been kidnapped in the first place."

He looked at her, taking in the pale skin and firmly set mouth. Why did she have to be so clever? "Why doesn't James just for once in his life think before running into the next problem head first?"

"He runs in fists first" Freya corrected lightly "because he's stupid."

Merlin snorted and she flashed him a grin, almost instantly returning to her stern expression. "What are you going to do?"

Merlin looked down, searching for the right words. "I don't know" he confessed finally, finding nothing better to say. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

She accepted the explanation with a nod. "You will sacrifice yourself."

When he didn't deny it, Freya turned fully towards him to give him the complete force of her _look_. "People don't want you to get hurt either."

"Not everyone cares as much as you do."

It was true; even if they celebrated him like a hero he was cold and inapproachable. Someone to be respected, not worried about. "And I don't plan to just run in and throw my life away" said Merlin. Of course it was exactly what he would have to do.

Freya didn't look like she believed a word.

"Look, we're going to find a better solution. Together. But it won't help if the Prince gets an ifection and dies first."

"You promise that you won't do anything rash before we have talked?"

"Promise" Merlin said relieved. There was another short silence. By now the bird had stopped singing and the sun was setting, covering the whole woods in red and gold.

Finally, Freya nodded. "I will do it. But only tomorrow, after we've both gotten a good night's sleep and the light is better."

Merlin gave her his first true grin that day as he watched the girl getting up. Sometimes he felt like she was his mother and he the twelve-year-old.

"Thank you."

Freya paused again, already half hidden in the shadows of the trees, and turned a last time to give him a sad smile. "You're welcome."

With that she left Merlin alone on his lookout, staring across the blood red forest.

**Thoughts? Critic? Wishs for the plot? Good things?...**

**I'm happy about every answer I get to make this even better :).  
><strong>

**Review Responses:  
><strong>

**Guest: **Thanks :). I'm glad the rewrites have done more than stealing my time... xD

**LadyInRed: **Thank you for your review and the correction of 'Master of Thie**ve**s'... I've already changed it :). I've once read a story with Merlin as a druid leader and I just love him with authority... that's also what I like about dark!Merlin. Though I prefer him good and with authority ;D.

**Again, if anyone wants to write about Merlin season 5, feel free to write me... I'd love to answer and talk a bit :). I've seen all five episodes so far.  
>Now, reviews? :D<strong>


	5. Chapter 5: Healing the Wounds

**Author's Note:  
><strong>

**Hi everybody! :)  
>No, I haven't abandoned this fanfic... :D it's actually quite strange: I started writing the next chapter shortly after my last update, then had to leave before I finished it, but somehow thought I had posted it- until I was looking through my stories a few hours ago and found that there was something missing. So I finished the chapter and posted it. It's a bit short, but that's the way it turned out and I can't really change it. My chapters choose their own length :).<br>Also, I know Freya seems quite mature here, but she's gone through a lot and has had to see more than some adults, so that's why.**  
><strong>Before I ramble on and on...<strong> **thanks for the wonderful reviews, alerts and favourites.  
>Enjoy and please R&amp;R! :D<strong>

**Disclaimer: Don't own. Neither Merlin nor the mistakes :P.  
><strong>

**Chapter 5: Healing the Wounds**

Arthur woke- or rather, was woken- by a soft touch. A small hand was carefully stroking his shoulder and then removing the cloth from his thigh to uncover his wound.

The Prince opened his eyes and tried at the same time to reach for his sword, panic rising when he found that he couldn't move. His body was frozen, it just wouldn't obey the commands of his mind. It was like in some of his worst nightmares. People were reaching for him, attacking him, but Arthur couldn't do anything to protect himself. All the years of training, all the endless repeats and fights until he could win against each and every knight were suddenly useless. His mound went dry as nausea rose. Sorcery was simply to powerful.

"Shush."

The voice belonged to a child and Arthur rolled his eyes until he could see her. The girl was small, maybe 10 or 12 years old, and she was smiling softly, holding his shirt tightly. Her presence was calming him instantly. Where children were there couldn't be much of a danger.  
>Children weren't evil. But then, why couldn't he move?<p>

The Prince bit on his lip and frowned as he found that he was able to use his mouth.  
>"What are you doing?"<p>

She threw a quick glance back at the entrance, where Arthur could barely make out a black figure. Emrys was leaning casually against the wall, almost blending into the background, but at the same time very present. The girl seemed to draw confidence from his still form. She turned back and flashed him a grin.

"I'm treating your wound, of course."

Arthur couldn't keep his brows from rising at her indignant voice.  
>"Aren't you a bit..." He paused, searching the right word, before he finished rather helplessly: "...a bit young?"<br>The Prince felt his cheeks redden as the girl smiled brightly. There was a chuckling at the door, then Emrys spoke.

"Don't worry. Freya is one of our best, despite her young age. You are lucky she agreed to help you. Most of the other healers wouldn't be so kind." His tone had gone dry and Arthur gulped. An unwilling healer was usually as good as a death sentence. A very painful death sentence. "You know" the sorcerer continued in the same emotionless voice "some would even try to kill you for what you and your father have done to them."

"M- Emrys!"

Both men ignored Freya's disapproving cry as the Prince gazed at Emrys. Thank God the spell stopped his hands from shaking and he had lots of practice in calming his voice and eyes. When you show your feelings, you've already lost.

"Are you one of them?"

The question broke the quiet abrupt and for a moment everything fell silent, before the girl huffed and smeared some cream on his wound that made Arthur grimace behind his cool mask. When Emrys finally answered, the Prince had already believed he would stay quiet.

"I don't know" he admitted very softly. "You have a powerful father in your back, Pendragon. And still you haven't so much as struggled against my spell since you are aware of a child's presence. There is something about you."

"...says the unimaginable powerful sorcerer and leader of the druid camp that helds me capture."

The black hood jolted suddenly and Arthur could have sworn that the eyes that met his were smiling, even if it was a surprised or even shocked smile, before Emrys looked away again. Freya shook her head and grinned. "Now listen to yourselves. You have known each other for barely two days and already you sound like an old married couple."  
>She held her open hand up as a sign of surrender, even though Arthur was too shocked to protest. Instead her eyes hold Emrys' gaze. "It's quite alright, I have understood. I like him, you know."<p>

There was a short silence and Freya rolled her eyes. Arthur began to feel like he was left out of one part of the conversation. "Yes, like I said, it's alright. We can discuss all later, in private."

Another second and she suppressed a laugh. "I won't speak like that when someone else is around who is unable to speak our tongue. You know why."

Emrys sighed rather annoyedly, but the girl wore a fond smile as she finished cleaning and treating his wound and took a bandage from a small bag next to her- or so Arthur assumed. His view wasn't exactly great without being able to move his head.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to lift your hip a bit so I can apply those."  
>She showed him the white cloth with an apologetic smile. Arthur answered it a tad ironic.<p>

"I would love to move, but it isn't exactly possible, is it?"

Freya frowned for a second, before realization dawned and she sighed. "Emrys?"

The sorcerer crossed his arms and stood completely still, like some kind of guardian. Still it reminded Arthur more of a pouting child and just a second he felt a smile tugging at his lips.

"I won't do anything that allows him to harm you."

The girl bowed her head and regarded Arthur, who was very carefully trying to look trustworthy and confident.

"He won't. You have said it yourself- he won't hurt a child."

"There is still a possibility, especially with a magical child. I won't risk you."

Freya sounded more like an adult than a kid, but Arthur could understand Emrys perfectly. He wouldn't have acted differently himself, had he been in the same situation.

"I'm not exactly the average child. Usually you trust my assessment. Trust me now. I'm not made of sugar."

Emrys looked pained, even though Arthur couldn't see his face.

"Freya..."

"I won't hurt her."

Two heads whipped in his direction, confusion lighting Freya's eyes for a moment. The Prince smiled warily. _Yup, I'm here too._

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he gazed at Emrys. "You have my word. I won't try to kill her or hurt her in any way while she is treating my wounds." This time, he let his smile show. "Would be a little counterproductive really. Like you said, I don't think there are lots of..." _Sorcerers. Devils._ "...your people who would be willing to treat me."

The sorcerer shook his head, launching into a long refusal, but Arthur stopped him.  
>"Whatever your people think of me, I am a man of honour. I have never and will never break my word."<p>

Both froze for a moment, obviously thinking and trying to recall as much as they knew about Camelot's Prince. Freya's eyes were soft when she looked at Arthur and then turned towards Emrys.

"He does remind me of someone." The Prince frowned, not quite catching the meaning, but Emrys did and turned his head away from them. "I think we can trust his promise. Plus, you are near enough so he knows that he's dead if he tries something." The last part was also directed at Arthur and the Prince narrowed his eyes, his mouth forming a thin line.

Finally Emrys sighed and looked back at them, pushing himself off the wall and comeing a few steps closer. His voice was unnaturally loud and Arthur startled, though Freya didn't seem surprised.

_"If you hurt her in any possible way, you will pay. And believe me when I say that I don't care enough about your father to spare you this time."  
><em>

The druid girl continued to rummage through her things unfazed, as if she hadn't heard Emrys at all. The blond grimaced slightly, eyes widening when realization dawned him.

The sorcerer was speaking in his head. _So that's what Freya meant about 'their tongue'.  
><em>Somehow even though it was creepy and uncomfortable, the thought bothered him a lot less than it should have. After all Emrys was invading his mind. If he could speak in Arthur's head, what else yould he do? Had he already spelled the Prince to change his thoughts? Was that where the sudden calmness came from?  
>...but then why should he allow such ideas?<p>

The _presence _in his head tightened once again and Arthur winced as the voice boomed.

_"Understood? A signle scratch and you're done."  
><em>

Freya sighed disapprovingly and The Prince only then noticed that she was watching him intently.

"Emrys?"

There was a very long moment of silence and Arthur feared that Emrys had decided differently after all, that this was just another little game of his, when suddenly the force holding him in place disappeared. The Prince relaxed instinctively, stretching his sore limbs before Freya's hand touched his hip and he tensed again.

"Now, could you please sit?"

Without any further remark Arthur sat up, bracing himself on his arms. The druid girl worked fast, wrapping the bandages around his hip and securing it with a few familiar movements. He wondered how often she had already done the same on other druids.

Barely five minutes later Freya sighed contentedly and helped Arthur to lower himself again before she got up and turned towards Emrys. The sorcerer hadn't moved a bit since he had lifted the spell, standing still as stone, arms at his sides but hands towards the Prince. Ready to fight.

"Alright, this should keep the wound clean. I have also given you some cream that should fight off infections and helps you to heal faster. If there is any problem, I expect to be called instantly." She addressed Emrys. "Otherwise I will return in two or three days time to check on the wound and change the bandages."

The sorcerer nodded barely noticeably and the girl sighed, flashing Arthur a smile.

"See you."

"Yeah."

He couldn't help but grin back, causing her smile to grow just a little wider, before she nodded and left. Emrys took another moment to stare at the Prince who looked back defiantly, then he too turned and exited the cave-turned-prison.

It was only a few minutes later that Arthur realized that neither Freya nor Emrys had used any words to direct their magic.

**Merlin, Merlin... always so distrustful. But we can't really blame him, can we? :)  
>What d'you think? Was it alright or are there any huge mistakes questions? **

**Review Responses:  
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**sword: **Thanks for your review! :) I think it's really sad that there's no season 6... hope you liked the reveal though. I certainly did (bromance! 3 :D), even though they could have done it a few episodes earlier.

**Note: Once again I haven't had enough time to reread/correct this properly. If there are any errors I'm sorry. Please point them out.**


	6. Chapter 6: Call for War

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone! :)  
>Things are getting uncomfortable for Merlin, even though this is a rather short chapter... well, there's Uther. For the first time in this story. I hope he worked out the way I wanted him too...:D<br>Oh, and if there's anyone here who's also reading Master of Thieves: I will update ASAP, I promise. I had planned to write the next chapter this evening, when the plotbunny for this story assaulted me. So don't worry.  
>Now, thanks for all those wonderful reviews and favourites and alerts- they make my day every time I see them :).<br>Enjoy and please R&R! :D  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Don't own the story or any time to make this a funny disclaimer.**

**Chapter 6: Call for War**

The squire bowed, shaking even as he knelt down before the throne. The King wasn't known for taking kindly to bad news. Just why did _he _have to tell him? He wasn't even a knight! No one at court knew his name, at it could damn well stay this way if that meant that he wouldn't have to stand before King Uther again. Because, honestly, the King was _terrifying_.

"I hope you bring good news."

And there it was again, the fateful sentence. "I- I..."

He couldn't force his mouth to work properly. As if stammering would make this any better. The King glared, obviously annoyed as the boy before him shook harder.

"Speak up, boy!"

"I..." The squire gulped and exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. "Well, there's no bad news."

Uther's face lit up and the boy bit his tongue, afraid that he was only making things worse. "Have they found a trace?"

"N- no. There's also no bad news. In fact, there's no news at all. Your Majesty."  
>Why did he even have to come and tell Uther? He could have guessed that there were no news when no one appeared.<p>

The squire glanced at the thunderous face above him and paled, quickly gazing at the floor. No need to add insult to injury.

"You mean to tell me" Uther said very, very calm. It was worse than if he had shouted. "That you have no trace of my son? After three whole days of searching?"

"It's magic, Your Majesty. We don't know where to begin looking."

The King pinched his royal nose, seemingly trying very much not to explode. "Well, if it's magic, then why don't you start with searching the druids? They tend to know a lot about what's going on that concerns magic."

"We have tried. But they are so hard to find, because you-" he broke off, rewording the sentence under Uther's hawk-like eyes.

"Yes?"

"Well, they are scared of you. As they should be. Of course. Magic is evil and all. But it's hard to find them, because they're hiding as soon as one of Camelot's knights gets in a few miles distance. Or so we think."  
>The squire stopped as he noticed that he was rambling, glancing at Uther. The King looked pensive, which was a lot better than angry.<p>

"There are druid camps in the Darkling Woods. They have been there for a long time and won't be able to move with all their wives and children. Start there."

A soft murmur passed through the rows of nobles on both sides at the room, but the boy only bowed, glad to be able to escape the room.

"Of course, Your Majesty. We will all give our very best."

Uther's gaze seemed to tear right through him, leaving his soul bare and vulnerable. "As I expect you to. Now return to your master and tell him what I have said."

The squire bowed again and lifted, keeping his head down as he quickly made his way to the door. Half-way there the King's voice stopped him again, even colder than before.

"You have two days."

* * *

><p>When Merlin stepped out of the cave, he was immediately greeted by shouting and dark looks. A small group of about ten druids had gathered in the woods before him. They seemed to discuss who should be sent into the cave, until one of them noticed and everything fell silent. Two or three druids exchanged nervous glances.<p>

Merlin could hear Freya getting out behind him and watched as the gazes turned angry once again. The girl also noticed and froze, but he pushed her forward.

"_Go. I can handle them."_

Telepathy was rarely used because it was hard to hide your feelings and everyone else could listen if they chose to- the more powerful a sorcerer was, the more secure was his thought speech and the easier could he listen into other people's conversations. Merlin was the only one who managed to make his completely undetectable for anyone else than the person he was addressing.

He watched Freya nod and disappear into the forest, before he turned to face the crowd. To his annoyance, he could see James and the other two druids that had captured the Prince amongst them.

"What the hell is going on here?"

His voice boomed across the small clearing, having been enhanced by magic. It was a cheap little trick, but oh-so effective.

There was a bit of pushing around in the crowd, before one man- _James_- stood before the other. He glanced at them for reassurance before he met Merlin's gaze- or where he supposed it was under the hood.

"We want the Prince."

The warlock would have liked to groan, but stopped himself in the last second. Instead he crossed his arms. "To do what? Kill him?"

Again there were a few murmurs, people looking unsure or backing away. Merlin let them go. For now he was more worried about James. How could he have convinced so many people?

James spread his arms. "Who talked about killing? We should ransom him. Blackmail his father into making magic legal in Camelot."

"And then? Would you give him back and watch as Uther changes thr rules again and kills everyone with magic who has shown himself?" Merlin could vaguely remember having almost the same argument just after he had arrived with the girl. Why were the most stupid also the most stubborn?

He didn't even let James answer, firing off word after word.  
>"That is what will happen if you try. And if you kill the Prince, his father will burn the whole camp- and we couldn't evem blame him. There will be war. What then?"<p>

"We fight."

James' voice was soft, but hard as stone, cutting through the mumbling in the background. Everything fell silent. Merlin felt a wave of anger well up inside him. _Did this stupid little troublemaker want to kill them all?!_

Said druid had turned to his companions behind him and nodded, letting his gaze wander across the small rows. "Yes, we fight. We have been suppressed for so long. It is time to defend ourselves, and now is the perfect moment. We have magic. What do they have? Swords? Nothing more than a few pointy sticks of metal. Arrows? They will easily glance off from our shields. We could-"

"We could kill thousands and lose just as many," Merlin finished the sentence for him. "We could throw the whole nation into turmoil and war. Those with weak magic would die first- the old and the children. Families would be torn apart. Maybe we would win the war, but what then? We would have to suppress those without magic like Uther suppresses us and one day- maybe in ten years, maybe in a few hundred years- they would fight back and there would be war once again. That way, there can never be peace. Do you really want to answer for that?"

Wide eyes stared at him, faces pale with shock. Apparently his speech had had some effect, even if James was still gritting his teeth. Merlin turned to James, addressing the druid alone, even though he spoke to all of them.  
>"Prince Arthur stands under my protection. If anyone, and I mean <em>any<em>one, tries to hurt him I will come after them. Don't think you can deceive me."

He let his magic act freely upon his anger, feeling a grim satisfaction when everyone cowered as the trees began to shake and a dark cloud hid the sun. People tended to forget about his power when he wasn't there to remind them. And that's when the worst mistakes happened- just like this one. Merlin didn't _like_ to be feared, but he would if it was best for his people. Apparently it was.

"Now go."

His voice was raw and the group of druids dispersed immediately, some even bowing. Only James stayed a few moments longer, hands clenched to fists and gaze full of hatred, before he too disappeared into the undergrowth. Merlin waited another minute, then he inhaled deeply to calm himself and pulled his magic back. It embraced him like a warm blanket before disappearing, sensing his worries.

Uther was hunting magic more than ever, his son was putting Merlin into a dilemma out of which he couldn't escape and the druids were starting to rebel and call for war. Arthur's capture seemed ages ago, though it had barely been three days.

How could it have come so far?

**The poor squire- first he didn't even get a name and then he made Uther angry. He's really having a bad day, isn't he? Though Merlin isn't any better off...**

**I hope the whole war-thing wasn't too rash or rushed. And what do you think of Uther?**


	7. Chapter 7: Deception

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>I'm back just 4 days after the last chapter... record time! xD Though it's short and there isn't really anything new in this chapter- well, Arthur's thoughts on everything. I guess that's a <em>bit <em>new. :D Oh well, guess I'll just let you find out yourselves...^^  
>Thanks for the wonderful reviews, alerts and favourites. And a special thanks to <em>AMerlinMourner <em>for giving me this idea :). I had completely forgotten that the voice was enhanced- also, right after writing it. Stupid me.  
>Enjoy and please R&amp;R! :D<br>**

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

**Chapter 7: Deception**

When the yell came, it cut right through Arthur's swirling and turning thoughts.

The Prince would have liked to say that he had been thinking about the best way to escape this cave, flee and alert his father, so the knights could find this camp of druids and execute them for kidnapping him. He knew from experience that he was good at planning such escapes, even if the situation he was in seemed more than dire. It would be a normal and _right _thing to think about right now, after Freya and Emrys had left him alone.

The problem was, his mind wouldn't focus on fleeing, while it was still way too occupied with something else. Something entirely inappropriate for Camelot's Prince, maybe even treasonable. But he couldn't exactly control his thoughts, could he? And Emrys had left the cave, so there was next to no chance that he could somehow read his musing.

It didn't reassure him in the least.

Arthur sighed and banged his head against the wall behind him, wincing when it hit the hard stone.

How was it possible that both Emrys and Freya had used magic without a word? _Everyone _knew that sorcerers needed incanatations to work spells. That's why the knights gagged them first of all. So none of them could escape using magic. If that method wasn't safe anymore, all of Camelot was in danger.

Or were the two of them some kind of strange exception, a freak of nature? Did they say the spells in their minds? Had it soemthing to do with them being very powerful?

The questions were endless, but there wasn't anyone near who he could ask. Freya and Emrys had just left, the other druids were unlikely to appear. And honestly, even if Emrys had been there, the Prince wasn't sure if he would have asked him. Freya, maybe. They had already proven not to be the average kidnappers, but that didn't mean that he trusted them or anything. If it hadn't been for his father, he would probably already be dead.

Or not kidnapped at all.

And _how did they use their magic?_

Maybe it _was_ because of their power. But then again, how could Freya be that young and so powerful? One needed to learn magic. To be that mighty, she would have to study for years or even decades. Emrys was probably old enough- but Freya would have to start learning before she was so much as born. Or did she have a natural talent for magic?

But that wasn't possible. People chose to study magic, often out of greed or hatred. Having a natural talent would mean that magic chose _them_, not the other way round.

God, his head hurt.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

The voice came from the entrance of the cave and Arthur looked up, almost guiltily, expecting to see Emrys. It had been his voice after all. But the cave was still as dusky and empty as before.

"To do what? Kill him?"

Again the Prince startled, only then realizing that Emrys must be standing in front of the cave, talking to someone else- or a group of someones, by the sound of it. Even though he had to be shouting at the top of his lungs to be heard that clearly, his voice didn't sound strained. Arthur shuddered involuntarily.

_Magic._

And if he had to guess, he would say that there was another group of druids out there and they were talking about him. Just great.

"And then? Would you give him back and watch as Uther changes the rules again and kills everyone with magic who has shown himself?"

Emrys' voice sounded angry, but not angry at Uther. The anger was directed at whoever the sorcerer was talking to. His father got only bitterness. Arthur wasn't sure which one was better.

_And he is actually right. My father would never allow himself to be forced to change the rules permanently._

"That is what will happen if you try. And if you kill the Prince, his father will burn the whole camp- and we couldn't evem blame him. There will be war. What then?"

War. Arthur would have explained the feeling this word caused as a shadow covering the sun, only that there wasn't all that much sun in his prison.

There was a long silence outside and the Prince strained to hear something, anything. They couldn't honestly think about killing him and fighting, could they? The druids were a rather peaceful lot, or so Gaius had told him. Not the ones to cause a war that would kill hundreds.

"We could kill thousands and lose just as many. We could throw the whole nation into turmoil and war," Emrys seemed to voice his thoughts at that moment. "Those with weak magic would die first- the old and the children. Families would be torn apart. Maybe we would win the war, but what then? We would have to suppress those without magic like Uther suppresses us and one day- maybe in ten years, maybe in a few hundred years- they would fight back and there would be war once again. That way, there can never be peace. Do you really want to answer for that?"

Again, silence. Emrys was an excellent speaker, Arthur had to give him that. And he was apparently defending the Prince, despite everything he had said on their meeting. Well, maybe he just didn't want war. Though, being the all-mighty Emrys, why wouldn't he? If he was really as powerfull as the druid obviously thought, the whole of Camelot would fall before him. The knights were trained to be the best, sure, but they couldn't combat magic in an open fight. The sorcerer wouldn't even have to enter Camelot or their arrows' range to destroy it. Arthur shivered. Just what was Emrys playing at?

If the words before had shocked him, it was nothing against what the sorcerer said next.

"Prince Arthur stands under my protection. If anyone, and I mean _any_one, tries to hurt him I will come after them. Don't think you can deceive me."

Arthur gasped, unable to hide his surprise (there wasn't anyone near to see it, so it was quite alright).

_Prince Arthur stand under my protection._

Why?

"_How about killing you for revenge and then disappearing before Uther has a chance to find me?"_

"_Just remember who's in power here."_

"_Some would even try to kill you for what you and your father have done to them." – "Are you one of them?" – "I don't know."_

"_If you hurt her in any possible way, you will pay. And believe me when I say that I don't care enough about your father to spare you this time."_

Why would he say something like that, after all he had said earlier? After all Uther- _Arthur_- had done to those with magic? How could he defend the son of the enemy of magic against his own people?

It didn't make _sense_!

The Prince was so caught up in his thoughts that he barely heard the "Now go", though he did feel Emrys' magic running wild. It was like water, like a raging torrent everywhere around him, making it hard to breath or even think. It was pure, undisciplined, raw power. Inconceivable might. It was _everything _and nothing at once.

And then, all of a sudden, it was gone.

Arthur took a deep breathe, gulping in air until his lungs felt like they would burst. How could someone _live _with so much power at their fingertips and not use it to suppress and enslave those around them, mere minions compared to the magic? How could someone _not _become evil the moment they felt what it would be like to have the world at their feet? Greed was only human, after all.

"_There is something about you."_

How could Emrys respect those around him when they were so much lesser than him? _Why was Camelot still standing, with such a being amongst the sorcerers they were executing?_

He didn't understand. He was unable to grasp it. It wasn't _possible_.

If it wasn't all just adeception, a play to distract Arthur from their true intentions (whatever those were) and make him trust them and then turn him against his father.

"_Prince Arthur stands under my protection. If anyone, and I mean anyone, tries to hurt him I will come after them."_

Arthur pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes. It _was_ a sham, it had to be. Emrys was no better than all the other sorcerers that had tried to kill him in the past, only a bit more cunning and powerful. And the worst was that he, Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot, had almost believed him. He had nearly fallen for their deceit.

The Prince leaned back against the wall, letting the cold stone ground him, but his eyes shone with defiance.

He had been deceived once, in a weak moment. He wouldn't be so stupid again.

**Arthur is really a prat...^^**

**What do you think? Was his reaction OOC or IC? :D (So proud of myself for knowing those abbreviations! xD)**

**Also, I've now been writing fanfics for a year and nine days. And I think so far this story is the one that got the most alerts for one chapter: Nine since my last update! If you guys could also find the time to write a review, it would be great... but really, thank you for reading this at all :).**


	8. Chapter 8: Moving

**Author's Note:  
><strong>

**Hi everyone:)  
>Sorry for the wait. There's no excuse this time. Just, please, forgive me? *puppy-dog eyes*<br>At least this chapter is slightly longer than the last. And something new happens. And a new character appears. What could possibly go wrong?  
>*coughs*<br>Anyways... thanks for your reviews, alerts and favourites. They convince me to continue this every time I see them (maybe I should look at them more often in order to update faster?) :D.  
>Oh, and I'll participate in Camp NaNo, so don't expect any updates in April. Sorry again.<br>Enjoy and please R&R! :)  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Don't own Merlin.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 8: Moving<strong>

"Merlin!"

Merlin sat up in a rush, almost tumbling out of the bed as he fought confusion. What had happened? Where was he? And most of all- why was someone shouting his name?

Recognizing his surroundings, the warlock fell back with a groan. He was in his own tent, a bit away from the druid camp on the hill where he could get a bit more silence and privacy. _Well, ususally. _Most druids came to Iseldir anyway with their questions. And the leader of the Elder knew better than to disturb him because of trivialities. Plus, Merlin had spelled his tent so it wouldn't allow anyone to enter without his permission. That was probably why the latest pertubator still stood outside instead of shaking him awake.

"Hey, Merlin! I know you're in!"

It wasn't even Iseldir's voice. This one was much younger, but the warlock knew it at least as well as the Elder's. It had woken him more times than he liked. What didn't people do to have someone akin to a friend?

"C'mon, it's urgent! Really!"

"You said the same when you tried to get me to play a prank on Sylvia, Will! And how often did I tell you not to call me Merlin?" the warlock called back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There was a short blissful moment of silence, before the boy answered slightly offended, ignoring the second question.

"It would have been a great idea and she was just about to get back, so it _was_ urgent. But seriously, you should get up. The Elders are meeting. They've sent me to get you."

With a curse Merlin had jumped out of his bed and went scrambling for his cloak. Luckily he had been up late the previous night and had dropped into bed with his clothes still on. It was hard enough to find something in the chaos that was his tent.

A whispered word sent everything flying back where it had come from, making the dark cloak visible where it hung across a chair. Two seconds later Emrys stood before his friend on the hill, the only indication for his stress the slightly fast breathing. Will didn't even manage his usual grin and jokes at how someone so powerful could be such a messy person. Instead, he shot a worried look back at the camp.

"Finally. I don't know what's happened, but someone came to see Iseldir and next moment everyone was running through the camp and Iseldir said I should get you." He paused a moment, raising a brow. "They were _running_. I don't think I've seen that before. So it must be urgent."

Merlin sighed, already grabbing Will's arm. It was quite a climb up here. They didn't have to lose any more time. "Why didn't you just say that rightaway?"

His friend shrugged. "Didn't want to give you a heart attack by waking you like that."

The warlock snorted as the world around them disappeared in a rush of colours before rebuilding to form red cloth and a small group of druids. Thankfully Merlin's home was only a couple of dozen metres (beeline) from the Elder's council tent- little enough to teleport without the usual weakness. The other druids had gotten used to this kind of entrance.

As soon as the world had manifested around the two boys, Merlin was greeted by loud voices. Apparently they were discussing something quite heatedly, not yet having noticed their Lord entering. It was partly his own fault for appearing in a corner of the tent, but well- Merlin didn't want to appear on an already occupied place ever again.

"We should just knock them out and erase their memories."

"But those spells are tricky-"

"What if one of them remembered-"

"-if one of them managed to hide-"

"...maybe with a shield? If no one sees us, they'll leave this place alone."

"They're searching every centimeter!"

"-would cost too much energy, wouldn't it?"

"And what about-"

Finally one of the Elders noticed Merlin and nudged his neighbours, making room for him to come forward. The warlock frowned as the whole tent fell silent, turning towards Iseldir.

"What's going on?"

The druid sighed. "One of our scouts has seen knights in the woods. They bear the crest of Camelot and move in our general direction, though they don't seem to know our exact location. We don't know if they even know that we're here or if it's just a lucky guess. After all there've always been druids in the Darkling Woods."

There were a few murmurs and whispering, some approving, some angry. Merlin simply nodded. "How far away are they?"

"About half an hour. Could be more or less, depending on how closely they search everything."

The tent fell silent as Merlin thought, none of the others daring to interrupt, despite the heated discussions earlier. "How long do we need to move the camp?"

The Elders and council gasped, while Iseldir just sighed. There was a reason why he had been elected first Elder.

"My Lord, with all respect- we don't even know whether they will come so deep into the Woods. The terrain is rough at the best. They won't be able to ride and without their horses the knights will soon give up," an elderly and slightly fat council member interjected. The small group around him nodded. Apparently they didn't want to move on after spending the last three years here. Merlin couldn't blame them- he felt the same way. Usual druid camps were constantly on the move, changing their location every few weeks. Compared to those the three years had been a luxury. But when it was this or risking his people... there wasn't a choice.

"We have Uther Pendragon's son. Believe me when I say that he won't give up, which means the knights won't stop either. In comparison to Camelot the Darkling Woods must be a paradise right now," the warlock explained. The man that had spoken before pulled a face, readying himself to interrupt. Before he had the chance to Merlin continued, now addressing him directly. "It was stupid and foolish to kidnap the Prince, but we can't change that. Even if we return Arthur to Camelot, his father will want revenge. So let's focus on what we _can_ do. Or does anyone here want to take the blame if the knights do find the camp and slaughter half of it before we can escape? Most here aren't properly trained or they wouldn't have needed rescue in the first place. We have women and children. If it comes down to a fight, we won't stand a chance. Any other objections?"

Merlin glanced round, carefully looking everyone in the eyes who would meet his gaze. No one spoke. Finally, the warlock nodded. "Iseldir?"

"We should be able to pack and leave this place within twenty minutes, but getting everyone to the emergency camp will take some time."

_More than we have_, Iseldir's eyes said. Merlin nodded to show that he had understood and again to himself. "I will distract them. I should be able to conjure an illusion that will keep them occupied for another hour or so."

It would also cost him all his energy, but he didn't have to mention that.

"But what about the prisoner?" a small woman with grey hair and equally grey eyes asked. The warlock's face went blank, his voice turning hard.

"Leave him to me. I will assign guards and keep an eye on him myself."

The Elders exchanged uncertain glances. "What if he leaves a trail or something and leads Uther's men right here? Why don't we just leave him behind? It won't change our situation, but we'll be faster. And it would occupy the knights for a while."

Again the elderly man. Merlin suppressed a groan. Why couldn't they just follow his orders? "Firstly, he won't be able to, because like I said _I will keep an eye on him_. And if we leave the Prince here, the knights will know that they're on the right track. If they don't find us, there's a chance that they start looking somewhere else. Then we can return to this place."

The warlock paused to see whether there were any more arguments, but no one spoke up. After a few moments of silence, Merlin pulled himself together and clapped his hands, causing the tent to tidy up itself, before he grabbed Will and gathering enough magic to teleport.

"What are you waiting for? We have little time and a whole camp to move."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is a good idea?"<p>

Merlin pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes as he felt the headache settling. Had he really woken up only 15 minutes ago? With a sigh- the magic that waited to be done would just worsen his migraine- the warlock turned towards Will. His friend was leaning against the large desk in the middle of Merlin's tent, arms crossed and sporting a worried experession.

"You were there when I discussed all of that with the council and I've already got a headache without repeating the whole thing. Not to mention our little time problem. Plus, you know the emergency plans. The move is only temporary. As soon as the knights are gone we can return. Who knows, maybe we can even leave a few tents here if we hide them with magic?" he mused.

Will continued to gaze at him, already used to Merlin getting sidetracked during his rants. One of the effects of befriending a magical genius. "I meant the spells. D'you think you can cast that illusion, pack your things, help everyone, spell the tents to be undetectable, cover our trails and keep an eye on the Prince at the same time? I mean, you already have a headache and the whole drama hasn't even started yet. The council might buy the 'all-powerful Emrys' behaviour, but I don't."

"I _am_ Emrys and the most powerful sorcerer, Will!" Merlin interrupted his friend. Will grimaced.

"Then tell me- who found you last time after you _had_ to try out that new spell while maintaining the other five? If I remember correctly, you didn't look all that powerful when you where unconscious and too weak to move. But hey, if you want to repeat the experience..."he trailed off, giving his best imitation of a nonchalant voice while glaring at the warlock. "You know one of the reasons why I can't stand nobles? They keep overestimating themselves."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You forgot the part about you bugging me to try the spell, because apparently it would be _'great fun'_."

"I didn't think you would try it right then and there! Usually it takes a lot more to convince you to participate in one of my plans!"

"Yeah, because they always end up with at least one of us incapacitated."

Will pouted as he watched the books order themselves in neat stacks, but he couldn't counter. After all it _was_ the truth. Kinda. "You changed the topic, you old fox."

Merlin just grinned. "It worked for quite a while, didn't it?" A wave of his hand made the papers on the desk gather in large piles. "Don't you have an own tent to look after?"

"You know that I don't have that much- damn, you're doing it again!" Will glared at him and Merlin had the decency to look slightly sheepish, though somehow his grin wouldn't disappear.  
>"You're an idiot," Will stated, although it sounded rather fond. "Now, what about you doing all those things at once? Do you <em>want<em> to exhaust yourself completely?"

The warlock sighed as both of them turned serious once again. "I don't want to repeat that particular experience, no. That's why I won't be doing everything alone."  
>His friend only snorted in response and Merlin glared at him. "Remember for example what I said about the Prince? I'll assign guards to him, so I won't have to watch him constantly."<p>

Will grimaced. "Right. As if anyone could find the time right now."

"Oh, I don't know." A small grin spread on Merlin's features and Will gulped, finding his friend's expression slightly worrying. "There are a few people that simply don't have that much stuff. I'm sure one of them will help me."

Will stared at the warlock who continued packing his things with quick gestures and a few words. It took two entire minutes until he got the hint. Then his eyes widened almost comically. "No."

Merlin paused long enough to shrug. "You have more time left than most. And you are my friend, so I'm sure you don't want me to overwork myself?"

"That's- that's blackmailing!" Will managed to get out, still staring at the warlock. The person in question nodded casually.

"I don't have magic!"

"Which is why he'll trust you rather than anyone else. Plus, you're great with a dagger and he's wounded."

Will shook his head wildly. "It will be terrible. I _hate_ nobles and he's the second highest up!"

"Which is why I trust you to remain careful around him. It's harder to deceive someone who's wary anyway."

The young man slumped in defeat. "I won't get away, will I?" he asked finally.

"Nope," Merlin answered, sounding a lot happier than necessary. Will groaned.

"Alright, alright. I'll do it. No need to get so smug."

The warlock grinned, waving his hands one last time. A document flew from one of the piles into Will's hands, whose eyes widened as he read it. "You've planned all of this, you... you..."

"Cunning mastermind?" Merlin suggested, laughing as the document flew towards him. "Hey, keep it. Just to make it officual and all- you know some of the Elders..."

Grumbling, Will pocketed the paper. His friend smiled.

"And hereby I appoint you, William, first guard of Prince Arthur Pendragon. Have fun!"

* * *

><p><strong>What do you think? Was Will too OOC?<strong>** I hope not...  
><strong>

**Happy Easter and until next time! :)**


	9. Author's Note

***peeks around the corner***

**Uhm... hi everyone. *coughs***

**Alright then... I'm sorry this isn't a new chapter- or even good news. On 16th I'll go away for two months. I don't know if I'll be able to write anything during that time. Most likely not, though of course I'll try to. (Yeah, I now that with me trying usually means 'not gonna happen'. But I'll try anyways, okay?)**

**Still, I wanted to warn you that there will most likely be no updates during the next two months. I hope that you don't mind too much...**

***backs away ****slowly*******

**See you in October!**

***turns and runs to avoid being caught by the angry mob***

_**Note: I'll add this note to every story I'm currently writing.**_


	10. Chapter 9: Planning

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone!:)  
>Okay, I don't really have time for a huge AN right now. I'm really really sorry I didn't update sooner- first I was abroad, then I did NaNoWriMo, then all teachers decided to write exams at once and suddenly it was Christmas... anyways, I wrote this during NaNo (in November), but didn't want to post it until I had edited it. Which I haven't. But I'm already late for a New Year party, so this is my last chance to postsomething in 2013. Sorry in advance for any mistakes... I've tried to fix them all, but I have the feeling that I've overlooked some.  
>On another note, thanks for the reviews, alerts and favs! They make my day :).<br>Enjoy- and a Happy New Year! :D  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 9: Planning<strong>

Prince Arthur Pendragon was bored. Seriously, terribly bored.  
>He sighed. You would think that getting captured by a group of evil magic-users would be more... adventorous. But since Emrys' speech to make Arthur trust him, the Prince hadn't heard- and much less seen- anything from outside.<p>

It couldn't be more than a day (after all, Freya had promised to check on him), but it felt like two at least. Plus, his stomach was demanding food loudly.

The Prince glared at the wall, resisting the urge to punch it and/or leap to his feet. The first would only result in an injured hand and the second was plain impossible with the wound he already had.

Arthur was just about to risk it and get up (he would become _crazy _if he had to stare at that wall much longer), when suddenly steps sounded from the passageway that led down to the cave. Instantly, his heartbeat quickened and he moved to sit upright, his back against the wall to steady him.

The steps were too loud to be Freya's. _They belong to someone heavier- a man, probably. _His gaze fixed on the entry, Arthur waited.

He had been right- it was a young man, maybe a little younger than Arthur himself. Brown hair that matched the simple shirt and trousers. When he noticed the Prince's gaze, his already grumpy face turned into an angry grimace.  
>Arthur felt a pang of disappointment. Whoever this man was, he didn't look important.<p>

But he had two sets of chains in his hands. The Prince's stomach churned, whether from hunger or the sudden nervousness, he didn't know. _I'm going to be moved.  
><em>

Why else would the man need chains for an already chained captive? _This is probably the best chance to escape that I'll get.  
><em>

The man was still standing in the doorway, seizing him up. Arthur met his gaze defiantly and he grimaced, before finally coming closer. He took his time, only speaking when he was about a metre away from the Prince.

"I have to move you, which is why I'll bind you with these" he lifted the chains in his hands "and then undo the one that binds you to the wall. Now, we can do this the easy or the hard way. Either you follow me, preferably silently, or I'll make you follow me." Arthur couldn't suppress a snort at that and the man glared at him. "Believe me, you're in no condition to put up a fight. Plus, I've all the badass magic on my side." He wriggled his fingers meaningfully and Arthur lifted his chin, unwilling to give in, even though he had nothing that compared with magic. The man sighed.

"Let's get that cleared stright away- I don't want to be here. I don't like or trust you. And I've chosen a few other druids who feel the same way and who wait outside, in case you think you're very clever and try to attack while I chain you."

"Well, then we've already got two things in common" Arthur replied, hoping to sound casual. "I don't want to be here or like you either."

"We have nothing in common, Pendragon."  
>The man's voice was barely more than a hiss and Arthur raised a brow. What was wrong with this guy? After all, he wasn't the one kidnapped and hold captive.<p>

"Who are you, anyways?"

The man shot him a look, obviously wondering whether he should tell his real name or not. Arthur waited as patiently as he could and even withstood the urge to make a comment about how the other obviously couldn't remember his own name. _If you are caught, don't anger your captor_.

"You can call me Will," the man said finally, kneeling next to Arthur. With a few quick movements he bound the Prince's hands, keeping one end of the chain in his own hands, before he unlocked the chain around his left foot. Arthur didn't move, but instead observed the other man.

'Will' (if that was his true name) had unruly brown hair and a somewhat roundish face that made him look more like a peasant than a sorcerer. His clothes were equally plain- brown trousers and a shirt of the same colour. Only his eyes were different from those of the peasants Arthur had met so far. They shone with a stubborn resistance. _Seems like Emrys has got himself a little rebel._

"Why?"

'Will' glanced at him, obviosuly torn from his own thoughts. "Why what?" he asked back, gesturing him to stand. Arthur didn't move.

"Why the sudden decision to move me? Has something happened?"

The man averted his gaze. "That's none of you concern. I was told to move you, to guard you, and that's all I'll do."

"So something _has_ happened." Arthur frowned, thinking hard, until realization dawned him. "My father?"

This time, William didn't answer, but instead pulled hard on the chain to make him stand. It told Arthur all he wanted to know and a small smile split his face for a second. He didn't resist anymore but tried to get up, grunting as he moved his stiff limbs. Sharp pain shot through his hip halfway and he narrowed his eyes, unable to do anything but crouch as his breathing quickened. Obviously Freya's spell was wearing off.

Will seemed to notice what was happening and, after a moment, reluctantly offered his hand, which Arthur grabbed just as reluctantly. Still, it took them three minutes until he was ready to walk.

The rough ground of the cave didn't make things easier, but finally they reached the entrance, Will dragging Arthur along behind him like some sort of cattle. The passageway was short and soon the Prince stepped outside, breathing deeply as he smelled fresh air. It was different from Camelot- smelling like forest and smoke- but still so much better than the stale air in the cave.

He didn't have much time to enjoy it, however, as Will walked towards the treeline without pausing. When they passed the trees though, he couldn't help but stop in his tracks.

The whole place looked like it was from one of the fairytales the maids would tell him when he was little. The village, all colourful tents that seemed to be made out of whatever peace of cloth their owners could spare, sprawled inside a small valley- the forest on one side and a cliff, underneath which a small lake lay, on the other. Right now it was bustling with people of all ages and genders, rushing from one tent to the next and loading everything on small carts that, once full, were pulled and pushed up a trail to one side.

Will, who had paused with him, now sighed and continued down the hill- crossing the village. Even though everyone seemed busy, silence spread when Arthur was led through and people stopped whatever they were doing to stare at him. The Prince felt uncomfortable, but tried not to show it, returning their gazes.

Still, the minutes they needed to reach the carts seemed endless and Arthur couldn't help but sigh in relief when Will led him to a cart on the side and wound the chain around its railing before he locked it, gesturing Arthur to push it. The Prince's brow rose, but he didn't argue, seeing as Will went to the other side of the cart and started to pull. They didn't use magic for everything, then.

His amusement quickly passed as he looked at the hill in front of them though and Arthur groaned. Great.  
>The car jolted and he hurried to follow, laying his hands on the wood for good measure as he shuffled along the trail- mind far away, caught up in escape plans.<p>

* * *

><p>Merlin was standing in the middle of the place where there camp had once been- now only marked by a cold fireplace and spots of light grass where the tents had stood- and sighed.<p>

Twenty minutes ago, Will had woken him, telling him that he had to meet the council. Fifteen minutes ago, they had announced that they had to leave and travel further north, into the forest. There was a safe place- of course they had one- that no one would find. It was protected by a thicket of thorn bushes, as high as a man, and hidden away behind veils of spells spoken years ago and renewed regularly in case of an emergency.

He should be content. They had managed to pack everything and leave in record time. The druids were on their way to the hidden shelter, while the knights were still about ten minutes away- more than enough time to make this place look like it had before their arrival. Well, if one was Emrys, anyways.

But all he could feel right now was frustration- they would never have had to leave this place, the place that had become their home over the past three years, if it hadn't been for those idiots kidnapping the Prince. It had been perfect here- deep in the forest so no one would find them, a stream nearby for water, always enough room to expand and find place for more tents whenever he brought more sorcerers and druids... and now Uther ruined everything once again.

Because in the end, it was always the King's fault. Without Uther, he would never have to live the life he did. He wouldn't have to hide, risk his life to save others, fear that they would have to flee any time... there would be no need for Emrys, the mighty druid leader. He could have led a normal life, have friends, a family.

He could have lived an actual _life_.

The though made Merlin want to hit something, but he only waved his hand and made the fireplace disappear, knowing that he couldn't make the clearing explode without raising suspicion- and the druid were still on their way to the shelter. Plus, they might want to come here again.

A whispered spell and fresh grass grew on the pale places, making it seem like a natural meadow. Saplings appeared between the blades of grass as normal for a clearing.

Merlin looked around, noting even professional readers of tracks wouldn't be able to tell the difference, and nodded contentedly. He had to believe that everything would work out. The knights would disappear again once they had searched everything and they could move their camp back to this place. The Prince didn't know the way here- so he wouldn't find the Shelter either. And even if he did, it was impossible to enter without using magic.

"This way! There is a clearing. Druids prefer clearings."

"Qiuet now! We don't need to be told and you will only alert them to our presence."

The voices tore Merlin from his thoughts and he startled, quickly slipping behind a tree and making himself as small as possible. When he peered round the trunk of the tree, the warlock saw a man in Camelot's red cloak stand in the middle of the clearing. He gesped, leaning with his back against the trunk, his thoughts racing.

It had been a close call. The knights were faster than they had expected- and also quieter. He should have heard a huge group of people searching the forest, even if he had been deep in thoughts. If one hadn't made the mistake of speaking up... well, it wouldn't have ended all that well.

Merlin looked to the left, pressing one side of his face through his hood against the trunk, the rough surface calming him slightly. Then he froze, noticing his staff that was still prepped up against a tree in plain sight. It had been a gift by Iseldir to his tenth birthday- plain yet beautiful with its smooth dark wood, a crystal that helped to amplify and direct your powers sitting on the top. He hadn't used it in ages but had started again lately, all the powerful magic he had had to do since the Prince's arrival draining him. That was also why the staff was still here- he had wanted to use it to teleport to the Shelter after he was done hiding all signs of their presence.

Merlin closed his eyes for a second, trying to concentrate even though his mind was spinning like crazy. He hadn't slept properly for the past few days, and that with all the magic and chaos made him dizzy. But if he made a mistake- if the knights saw the staff- they wouldn't stop searching this area. And while the Shelter was safe, they had to leave it every once in a while to hunt and gather fresh herbs.

Even the thought of living his life confined to the place, only able to leave by teleporting, made his stomach twist.

The warlock peered around the trunk again, waiting until the knights were facing into another direction- having started to search the thicket at the other side of the clearing- before he murmured: "Ábregdan."*

The staff moved around the tree, stopping at the side that faced away from the knights, and Merlin hold his breath for a few painful seconds, before it became clear that the knights hadn't noticed anything. Then he slowly moved forward to kneel on the floor, looking into the direction of the staff.

He couldn't risk to run or even teleport to the staff. The tree it was leaning against was too thin to hide even his lean frame and he didn't want to take any risks. Nor could he simply summon the staff to his hand, as he had done before- humans were made to see movements rather than unmoving objects and it had already been dangerous enough moving it around the tree. Plus, the are between him and the staff was covered by bushs, branches of trees making it near to impossible to navigate the staff past them fast enough.

He had to make it disappear and then appear again next to him.

Again Merlin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and then opened his right hand.

"Áslúpan ond ábregdan tó mín bráde."**

The feeling of smooth wood, gripped at the same place for years until it had started to shine, made him relax and slump down.

So far so good. Now all he had to do was teleport to the Shelter and make sure the others had arrived safely.

* * *

><p>*Ábregdan. – Move away.<p>

**Áslúpan ond ábregdan tó mín bráde. – Disappear and move to my hand.

**Hope you liked it :). Please point out any errors- and review? *puppy-dog-look***


	11. Chapter 10: Found

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>I promised this chapter would be faster, didn't I? Well, here it is.<br>Thanks so much for the reviews- especially to those who found errors. Apparently I can't type during NaNo _. (Or_ especially_ during NaNo.)  
>Hope you like it anyway... :D enjoy and please R&amp;R!<strong>

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

**Chapter 10: Found**

Arthur groaned, stumbling when the cart moved across a stone and pulled at his chains and nearly doubling over in the process. Will didn't react. Then the next stone came and Arthur actually fell to his knees, breathing heavily.

This time the young sorcerer had to stop and walk around the car, shooting the kneeling Prince a look full of disgust. Arthur almost wondered why he didn't spit on him as well.

"What's wrong? My friends wasted their energy on healing you and now you're already flagging just from walking behind the cart for a few metres?"

It was true that Arthur had stopped pushing the cart and started trotting behind it soon enough. Which wasn't true was the length they had already walked. Arthur felt like he had been on his feet for hours- partly because they were slow, due to him, and had fallen more and more behind until even the last carts were out of view and it was just Will and him. Luckily the other seemed to know the way and had only shot glares in his direction whenever he groaned, which had happened more and more often during the past fifteen minutes.

Not feeling like answering Will's question, Arthur simply glared back up at him. The sorcerer put his hands to his hips, smirking when he didn't get an answer.

"Oh, have you swallowed your cheeky tongue? I wonder what your father would say."

"You try walking for _miles_ with a stomach wound," Arthur rasped back, only slumping further, but Will merely raised a brow.

"I have. And you know what? That was thanks to your father."

The reply shocked Arthur into silence for a moment as he had expected a rude remark- not the blame and bitterness in the man's voice. But then again- it made sense. It certainly explained his hatred towards the Pendragons, as well as how he had treated Arthur as if he was completely healthy. He knew exactly how far you could get after having been stabbed in the stomach.

"Well, you probably haven't been chained to a cart and jumbled with every step. That _hurts_," he complained finally. "Plus, you can hardly blame me for my father's actions."

Even if he was beginning to blame himself. Not that Will had to know that.

"Well, as father as son, right?" The man leaned down to him, a hateful look in his eyes. "And now you will get up and continue walk-"

Before he could finish the sentence Arthur moved quickly, getting halfway to his feet and looping his arms around Will so the other man's back was pressed to his chest and the chains crossed right above his throat. The sorcerer was too shocked by the sudden change that he didn't even move until Arthur started to pull at the chains, effectively strangling him.

The Prince closed his eyes, expecting to be immobilized or turned unconscious at any second. This wasn't even a real plan, pretending to hurt more than he actually did to get Will to come looking for him and then strangle the man- more like a desperate attempt to flee while they were away from the other sorcerers. He had calculated that Will would spell him with a chance of 99 percent before he made it, but he still had had to risk it. After all he was the Prince of Camelot- and he liked his freedom as it was, without chains or dungeons.

To Arthur's great surprise the brunette didn't use magic, instead starting to struggle violently, his hands reaching for the chain while his feets were kicking at Arthur's- trying to get him to lose his balance. Sadly for Will, the Prince had been trained to stay balanced and fight since his early childhood and didn't even waver now.

Then Will took his hands down, elbowing Arthur straight into his stomach wound, and the Prince instantly regretted his grand thoughts as he doubled over, pulling Will down with him. Still, he managed to stay on top of the other man, wheezing from the pain as he concentrated on pulling harder and immobilizing Will's arms with his legs.

It _hurt_, like a hot poker being stabbed into his side and then turned over and over, boring into his guts. But he couldn't let go; not now, when he was so unexpectedly close to his freedom.

It seemed to take hours until Will finally slumped under him and Arthur didn't dare to move for another few seconds to make sure the man wasn't just kaing unconsciousness, before he scrambled back, grabbing the keys from Will's pocket and pushing him on the floor.

It took him about three minutes to open the chains, his fingers shaking from pain and shock, and even then he didn't run immediately- checking Will's breathing first, one hand pressed against his side where the wound had opened again and blood seeped through his shirt, barely visible on the Camelot red.

He had never compared the colour of their flag to blood, but it really looked horrifically similar.

Happy that the druid would survive, Arthur let the keys drop on the ground next to him and started to stumble into the opposite direction- adamant on finding the knights before he could fall unconscious from pain and blood loss.

There was no guarantee that Will would find him or even look for him once he woke up and by the time the knights had reached this place it might very well be too late for him. It was like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

Now Arthur was free, but if he didn't reach the knights, he might just have signed his own death sentence.

* * *

><p>The moment Merlin teleported, focusing on a spot a few metres from the entrance to the Shelter- he didn't want to risk breaking any of the shields that the Elders had woven- he knew something was wrong. There wasn't really a telltale sign. The colours had blurred as usual, the world spinning around him and forcing him to close his eyes so he didn't become dizzy-<p>

But _something_ was off, some kind of strange feeling in the mix.

So when he opened his eyes to see a clearing in the forest instead of the entrance to the Shelter, he was more annoyed than surprised, closing his eyes and intoning the spell again.

Nothing happened. Well, he felt more dizzy than before and not quite there, as if his eyes were playing tricks on him, making the whole world seem painfully bright and changing between razor-sharp and blurred. And still there was that feeling of _loss_, as if something essential was missing.

Merlin staggered, trying to call on his magic to steady himself- and receiving no answer. Suddenly it hit him like lightning.

The warlock stretched his hand out, whispering "Forbearne" to himself- again, nothing happened. A more frantic try brought the same result.

Merlin let himself sink down on the floor, putting his head in his hands to stop the world from turning, and groaned.

He was in the middle of nowhere, probably miles from the Shelter- or as close as his magic had managed to bring him before giving out- alone, without magic to protect himself and the knights of Camelot probably nearby, only waiting to arrest him. His situation couldn't possible get any worse.

The next second he cursed his thought as a scream echoed to the forest, followed by crude voices shouting and laughing loudly, making Merlin's blood run cold.

This was the Prince's voice. And while Will hated nobles, he would never be cruel like that.

Which meant they had been found- and not by the knights.

* * *

><p>His situation couldn't possibly get any worse.<p>

Arthur was still more stumbling than walking ahead, cursing the three sorcerers that had kidnapped him in the first place, Emrys who had let it happen and now had so much power over him, Will who hated him but hadn't even used his magic to stop him from this suicide mission.

Arthur stumbled across a broken branch and fell, stiffling a cry when he stretched his wound. He had left the way five or ten or twenty minutes ago- he couldn't quite remember. The forest floor was swaying before his eyes like the deck of a ship in the middle of the storm, almost throwing him off.

A ship. As a child he had always wanted to sail, the adventures and tales of the sailors luring him in. But of course he couldn't- the sea was too far away, it was too dangerous, wouldn't make him a better King and he couldn't waste any time anyway.

Later he would wonder what would have happened if things had gone differently- if he hadn't tried to escape and lost the way or if he hadn't been kidnapped. If he had just looled forward instead of keeping his eyes trained on the forest floor.

But as it was he didn't see the obstacle in his way until he had run into it, stumbling back and trying to find out what had happened. He had been walking forward just a few seconds ago, right? Had he run into a tree or something?

Then there was suddenly the sound of laughter, deep and rumbling and not very nice, and when Arthur finally managed to get a clear look at his surroundings there was a man standing in front of him. He was tall and broad as a tree, wearing ragged brown clothes that must have caused Arthur to mistake him with a tree.

The sneer on his face didn't look very gentle either as he turned his head to the right and shouted. Arthur startled from the volume, the words only slowly making their way into his brain.

"Here, you useless toads!"

"Don't ever call me that again."

The man that had appeared at from the thicket was just as tall but slim, wearing better clothing than the first- if only slightly. His glare hit the giant, before moving on to Arthur- and suddenly his face brightened.

"Well, hello there. If that isn't the wayward Prince."

He mock-bowed, just as two other men appeared behind him. Arthur's mind raced, finally coming to a conclusion.

Bandits. They must have followed the knights in a safe distance, taking the risk to be discovered for the chance to catch him first.

"Welcome your Highness. It is really a pleasure to finally meet you," the slim bandit continued, smirking. Arthur managed a glare.

"I'm afraid I can't say the same," he rasped, forcing himself to stand straighter even though the bandits were spinning in front of his eyes. _Never appear weak._

But something about this group told him that they wouldn't treat him as nice as the magic users had, in hindsight- and he was only human, weak from blood loss and pain. Eventually he would break. Arthur could only hope that the knights found them soon enough, however unlikely it seemed.

The slim man seemed to have read his thoughts for he smirked, tsssking. "A typical noble- always so brave and strong even when they were nearly breaking down a second ago. Very admirable. Now, I intend to sell you to the highest bidder- but they don't require you to be unharmed. And I think it should be fun to see how long the Prince of Camelot will last before he starts begging for his death."

* * *

><p><strong>How I love cliffhangers... :D<strong>

**Review? :)**


	12. Chapter 11: The Lord of the Forest

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>I know I'm a bit late again... sorry. I've never had as many lessons as I have this year and somehow my free-time usually consists of watching tv, reading (and sleeping way too little). Well... I'll try to be faster next time. (Note the 'try'.)<br>Thank you SO MUCH for all the wonderful reviews. And the alerts and favs. They make my day every time I get one (even though my family thinks I'm crazy when I come home in a bad mood, check my fanfiction account and suddenly run around with the brightest of smiles :D). Thanks!  
>Enjoy and please R&amp;R! :)<br>**

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 11: The Lord of the Forest<br>**

It was pure luck that Merlin's magic had given in to the drain and had left him in the middle of the forest, where he could hear the Prince's scream. And it was only thanks to the fear for Will- and admittedly, some worry for the Prince (if only because Freya would _kill_ him if something happened to him, or so Merlin told himself)- that he managed to get up and climb the hill from where the scream had come.

On the other side was a small valley, free from trees, and in it's middle the Prince was lying, surrounded by five men.

Will or the cart weren't in sight, which meant that Arthur must have tried to escape when they had caught him. And since he couldn't walk very fast with his wound, there must have been a good reason that Will hadn't followed him. Put that together with a prisoner who had been trained to fight and kill since birth, someone desperate enough to try about everything...

The thought made anger boil up inside him, his magic flickering to life for a few seconds. Then one of the bandits- a slim guy with dark hair and a nasty bruise forming on his face- spit on the unmoving Prince and Merlin's anger got a new target. Whatever Arthur had done, he had strong morals. He wouldn't have killed Will or hurt him deadly.

Plus, he didn't like people mistreating those too weak to defend themselves- even if it was the Prince of Camelot.

The warlock took a deep breath, making sure his hood was still in place an covering all of his face.

"Áhelle mé."*

The spell fell easily from his lips, having used it hundreds of times- whenever he needed to go undetected; even if he was asleep or unconscious.

Halway down the hill Merlin stumbled, slithering down the rest and then waiting with baited breath. No reaction. Apparently the bandits were so engrossed in their new victim that they hadn't even heard him.

Coming to his feet with a groan, Merlin moved forward until he was standing right next to one of the men, for the first time getting a good look on Arthur.

The Prince looked awful to say the least. His wound must have opened again and blood had seeped through the shirt and trousers, turning the clothes into a sticky mess as it started to dry. His skin formed a harsh contrast, deadly pale from the blood loss except for the left side of his face. That cheek was decorated by the huge shape of a hand- from the size that of the giant next to him.

Merlin fisted his hands, suppressing a curse. The Prince looked more dead than alive- in fact the only signs that he was still alive were the smirks of the bandits. They couldn't sell a dead Prince, not without losing 90 percent of the money they could get if he was alive.

"We should move. We have less than an hour until the knights arrive," the bandit opposite from Merlin warned, tearing the warlock from his thoughts. The slim man hummed.

"Steven, you carry our Princeling. And remember- we need to be quick. We've wasted enough time on this fucking bastard."

The giant next to Merlin simply nodded and shifted, making to grab the Prince. When he leaned down, he brushed against Merlin and stopped abruptly- staring at what seemed to be empty air next to him.

Merlin was unable to move, seeing the giant's hands move carefully towards him- but again his magic saved him, rearing up in exactly the right moment to sent Steven flying back. His back made a sickening crunch when it hit the tree and Merlin couldn't help but flinch. The giant didn't get up again.

Everyone in the valley froze, all eyes focused on the fallen giant.

"What the hell is going on?!," the slim man, who was obviously their leader, exclaimed, slowly backing away from the Prince.

One of the other two- a red-haired brute- quickly made the sign against evil.

"It's sorcery! They say the Prince was kidnapped by powerful magicians. They will kill us all for taking their victim!"

"They won't," his companion answered, but he had also started to back away. "The Prince was obviously fleeing. They should be happy we caught them."

A beam of energy hit him, weaker this time as Merlin felt his powers subside again, making him stumble backwards and leaving a smoking circle on his shirt- right above his heart.

The beam couldn't have hurt that much, still the bandit cried out- scrambling backwards as fast as he could with his eyes roaming the clearing.

The slim guy had drawn a knife in the meantime, looking around wildly. "Show yourself!"

Merlin made the knifes fly from his hand and embedd themselves into a tree, next to the red-haired's head- deep enough that they wouldn't be able to simply pull it out. Then he loosened his first spell slightly, appearing as a dark shape-barely more than a shadow.

His appearance had the desirable effect, making the bandit he had fired the knights at cry out as he pointed at the light that fell through Merlin's half-there form onto the floor- no shadow showing. The bandit's mouth opened and closed again with no words coming out and the warlock decided to make use of the silence.

"The Prince is ours," he intoned, letting his voice boom through the valley. "Anyone who tries to steal him will pay bitterly for their deed."

The bandit leader had recovered enough from his shock to try a smile (that looked more like a grimace), stretching both hands in front of him in a gesture of surrender.

"He is completely yours, of course he is. You can do with him whatever you want. We were only fearing that he had escaped and wanted to bring him back to you, we-"

"I heard something else," Merlin interrupted him, tilting his head slightly to the right. "Don't forget- this forest is magic and magic flows within it. Whatever is spoken here comes to my ears and whatever is done to my eyes. The trees keep watch over every trespasser."

Of course it was all a big lie, but it did its purpose- the bandits shrinking away from the trees aroumd them. The red-head even fell to his knees, pleading.

"We were just joking, my Lord, your Highness, just joking, please, you have to believe me-"

"Everyone who takes my property will be punished accordingly," Merlin said and began to walk towards them, his voice unforgiving. "You have stolen and broken the Prince. If he dies, he is useless to me. Which means you will have to take his place."

The bandits paled, obviously remembering in what condition the Prince had been when he had arrived. Their leader was the first to speak.

"If you have to take one of us, choose Thomas. He is still young and fit. A great exchange for the Princeling."

The bandit with the knifes startled, his eyes widening.

"Oh no, he's wrong. David's a much better catch. Very intelligent and stuff, ain't he? A good catch."

Suddenly they were all speaking at once, trying to convince him to take their companions and spare themselves. It made his head hurt.

"Silence!" he shouted and they obeyed immediately, freazing in mid-speech. It was almost comical. "I will need all of you. The Prince's soul is worth a lot more than your poor filthy things."

There was a moment of silence, before the leader spoke again.

"Please, my Lord- with your power he will surely heal again. There is no need to make do with our souls, they are tainted from years of stealing anyways. Just let us leave and I promise we will never set a foot into this forest again."

Merlin pretended to overthink the idea, watching from the corners of his eyes as the bandits waited like deers in the headlight.

"I have a better idea," he said finally and felt a rush of disgust at how hopeful they looked. Right now they would do about everything for him.

He hated it, sometimes hated to have all that power at all- even though it did come on handy. He would have long died from exhaustion, had he not been Emrys.

"There are knights in this place, scrutinizing every centimeter and interrupting the peace of this forest. I want you to give yourself up to them and when they question you about the Prince, tell them that you have seen him further in the North, near the border. You have heard talks about a group of rebellious druids that resides there and doesn't belong to any kingdom. They have kidnapped the Prince to take revenge on the King. The knights mustn't suspect that you are telling lies though, or you will instantly be dead."

He half-turned towards Steven and the bandits followed his gaze, a shiver running through their leader as he bowed down- the others hastily following his example.

"Of course we will do as you say, your Highness. The knights won't suspect a thing, I swear."

"You are very generous, Sire," David added, his forhead almost touching the floor.

Merlin took a step forwards and glared at them as his eyes flashed golden under the hood.

"Leave now and never come back. Your presence is tainting the air which you breathe and the ground you stand on. But remember- I see and hear anything. One wrong word or movement and all of you are dead, regardless of who has committed the crime."

Merlin forced himself to stand tall and unmoving while they retreated, uttering thanks and bowing until they had reached the end of the valley- and then turning and running as fast as they could. The warlock didn't believe they would dare to break their oath. Still, he forced himself to remain in the same spot for another few seconds, until his knees buckled- the invisibility spell completely abandoning him as the adrenaline of the past few minutes left him.

He had never felt this tired before in his life and it wasn't something he wanted to experience ever again. He was _aching_ from exhaustion, his bones feeling light and brittle and his brain numb.

Groaning, the warlock forced himself to crawl over to the Prince, searching for a pulse. He nearly cried from relief when he felt a shallow fluttering beneath his fingers.

Arthur was alive. There would be no more death today.

Taking a last short breath, Merlin rasped "Ágíeme."** Then he crumbled next to the Prince, finally sinking into peaceful oblivion.

* * *

><p>*Áhelle mé. - Hide me.<br>**Ágíeme. - Heal.

**Can you call this a cliffhanger? Hmm... **

**Anyway, review? :)**


	13. Chapter 12: An unexpected waking

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone! :)  
>Here I am again, one week later... for those who haven't noticed: I'm trying to update this fic once a week now, every Sunday (starting today, which means you couldn't really have noticed yet... oh, well). Let's see how long I'll keep it up. *coughs*<br>Another rather short chapter- but with a major plot point. That I almost forgot when I tried to write the next chapter earlier. *coughs again* (And yes, I have written a few chapters in advance- which is why I can probably keep the weekly updates going for a few weeks, before my usual lazy self has nothing left to post.)  
>Anyways, I don't want to spoil you or start ranting about my life... just thanks for the reviews, alerts and favs! :)<br>And now, enjoy and please R&R!  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Don't own.  
><strong>

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 12: An unexpected Waking<strong>

Arthur felt as if he had been run over by something heavy. Or trampled by a horse.

It wouldn't be the first time actually- when he was a boy, a few of the horses had once escaped the stables and run loose and one had hit him pretty hard when he had tried to calm it. He had spent the next two weeks in bed and only survived thanks to Gaius.

It was the first time he had seen his father scared.

Arthur groaned and tried to move, but something heavy was holding his right arm down.

Suddenly the memories of the past few days came back. The kidnapping, Emrys, Freya, how they had had to flee from the knights, Will, his escape, the bandits-

And then nothing. They had most likely 'played' with him until he had fallen unconscious and then bound his arms.

The Prince forced himself to keep his breathing even so they wouldn't know he had woken and then listened carefully.

Nothing. Well- nothing but the natural sounds of the forest.

He waited for a few more minutes before he dared to crack his eyes open, observing his surroundings.

Trees. Well, _that_ didn't surprise was more surprising was that he ccouldn't see any guards around. But there was something glinting at the far side of the valley he was lying in-

Arthur strained his eyes, not daring to open them any further- and then opened then in surprise. There were two knives, most likely throwing knives, stuck deep into a tree trunk at about man's height. What the hell had happened here?! Good knives were expensive. No one in their right mind would leave them behind if they could avoid it.

But there was obviously no one around.

Arthur shifted, once again hindered- not so much by his wound, but by the weight on his arm. He turned his head to the right- and then nearly jumped out of his skin.

Emrys was lying next to him, one arm spread across Arthur's and obviously very unconscious despite the hood he was wearing. Where his hand touched Arthur's skin it was glowing in a light blue that stretched out to his wound, barely visible in the light of the afternoon sun.

Afternoon. That meant he had either lain here for a few hours- or for a few hours and a day. He would guess it was the latter.

But then, why had no one come to search him- and more importantly, why had no one come to search Emrys? Were they too afraid of the knights? And where were the knights anyway?

Arthur felt a head ache building and groaned, deciding to focuse on his surroundings for now. Tracks could tell some stories all on their own.

Arthur sat up, carefully removing Emrys's hand from his arm- and strangely didn't feel any pain. When he managed to carefully pry his shirt away from his side, all that was left was a pale scar against his more tanned skin.

Arthur couldn't help but stare at the druid leader in awe. He was still unconscious, there was no doubt- and yet his magic had worked a small wonder. How powerful exactly was that man?

When the Prince got up, he noticed that the wound still hurt a little when strained, perhaps not completely healed on the inside. He would have to treat slowly. But it was much better than before.

Arthur looked around, concentrating on the ground. There were several tracks on the floor, as well as specks of dark blood that must belong to himself- the signs of the struggle before he had lost consciousness. At least he had hit the leader's face pretty hard.

Then there was a drag mark at one side of the valley, leading down the hill- that was where Emrys must have come from, however he had found them. Four tracks moved away from the middle of the valley, one passing directly by the knifes, showing how the bandits had fled- most likely from Emrys' magic.

Four tracks. Five bandits.

Arthur quickly turned around, ignoring the small stab of pain in his side, and startled again.

The giant- the one he had run into first and who had hold him while the others hurt him, putting more pressure on his wound then necessary to hold him down- was lying prepped up against a tree a few metres away. He looked very dead, even without searching for a pulse.

Still Arthur suppressed his gag reflex- dealing with corpses was never nice, even (or especially) after he had killed some people himself- and moved closer, reaching for the man's arm.

He instantly drew his hand back again. The skin was cold as ice, colder than possible for a living being.

Suddenly a thought crossed his mind and he span around, returning to Emrys' side.

The sorcerer had obviously fought the bandits and then healed him, having already fallen unconscious. What if the blue light earlier had only been some sort of restover magic? What if Emrys was also...?

He couldn't finish the thought and reached for Emrys' arm instead.

He hadn't noticed before, when it had rested onto his arm, but it was _cold_.

Arthur's breath escaped in a short gasp and he reached for the wrist, desperately searching a pulse. There had to be one. Emrys couldn't just die after saving him, leaving him alone without answers.

_No one_ was allowed to die for him.

After a few painful seconds he found something fluttering beneath his fingers, like a young and weak bird trying to fly. Agonizingly shallow.

For a while Arthur sat there, trying to decide what to do while his finger's still felt the sorcerer's pulse.

He could simply leave. Of course the thought had crossed his mind. The knights had obviously been close to the camp yesterday- they couldn't have come all that far, even if they had retreated.

But if he took Emrys with him the sorcerer would surely be executed, saved life or not. And if he left him here he would most likely die as well before anyone found him. Arthur couldn't let the man lose his life to save his, even if he was a sorcerer and as such probably planned something evil.

The last part sounded absurd and Arthur pushed it away, concentrating on how to save Emrys.

He hadn't seen any blood. Of course the Prince would need to check more closely (which wasn't so bad, since he had to remove Emrys' cloak- why hadn't he thought of that earlier?!), but there didn't appear to be any physical wounds. Which meant his weakness was caused by exhaustion and the cold of the knight. And _that_ meant that Arthur had to decide between lighting a fire and praying that magical exhaustion would leave after a while just as normal did- or carry Emrys back to the druids, hope that he would find their hiding place and then be imprisoned again.

Which he would most likely be anyway, as soon as Emrys woke.

Well, first thing first. Arthur reached for the hood that covered the sorcerer's face, noticing that his hand was shaking slightly from excitement- after all this man _was_ the most powerful sorcerer walking the earth, if rumours were to believe (and it seemed like they were). This was the druid King, most of whose subjects probably didn't even know what he looked like.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur pulled the hood back- and then stared at the man beneath it.

He was barely a man, looking more like a boy with his slightly too long hair that didn't manage to cover the big ears. His skin was pale, most likely due to always wearing the cloak, and his face beardless. He looked _young_, way too young for what he had already done. Hell, he was probably younger than Arthur himself. It was _impossible_. So much power at such a young age...

It was probably part of why he wore the cloak; to be taken seriously. Hidden behind the black cloth he looked mighty and wise- older on the inside than his years. It came with great power and responsibility. Arthur had experienced it himself several times himself.

Emrys' breath hitched, reminding Arthur of what he had to do. The Prince quickly opened the cloak completely,again surprised how much leaner and younger Emrys looked without it, and quickly lifted his shirt to check for wounds.

There were lots of scars. More than he had seen on some battle-worn warriors and certainly more than any young man should carry. But luckily there weren't any fresh wounds.

Feeling Emrys' cold skin solved his problem of what to do- after all they were in the middle of the forest with tons of wood around but no path to the druids' hiding place. Plus, they would probably see the smoke and come without him having to carry Emrys around- not that the man looked too heavy.

Arthur made sure to wrap the sorcerer in his cloak again, careful to provide him any warmth he could get while he himself went to search wood for the fire. Little more than ten minutes later they were both- one sitting, one lying- in front of the fire place, Arthur leaning close to Emrys to give him part of his body warmth as well.

It was this way that the druids found them a few hours later, both young men asleep from exhaustion.

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><p><strong>That's it already... I really don't know how I managed to put such a huge discovery in so few words. Arthur will probably ponder it all later though, when he doesn't have to fear the Emrys is dying under his hands.<strong>

**Thoughts/critics/whatever? Review! :D**


	14. Chapter 13: Silence

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone!:)  
>I know, I know, I'm already three days late... and I'm sorry, but I was really busy. That's my only excuse this time.<br>****What will happen now that Arthur has seen Merlin's face? Nothing all that spectacular I fear... but I still hope you like it. And I'll try to be punctual next week (as always, stress "try" :P).  
>Thank you so much for the favs, alerts and especially the Reviews... and sorry in advance for any typos. I'm typing on my new laptop and haven't got used to the keyboard yet.<br>Enjoy and please R&R! :)**

**Discaimer: Don't own... sadly.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 13: Silence<strong>

Merlin paced his tent, his cloak next to him on a chair. No one could enter his tent without his invitation, so he could take it off without fearing to be seen.

It had been five days since Arthur had saved him. That's what he remembered the day like.

Of course, he had saved the Prince's life twice before that day- from the bandits and the wound- but that was... normal. It had never been the other way round, though (if you didn't count the druids taking him in as a child). No one had ever saved _him_. He was the all-powerful and mysterious Emrys, so why would he need saving? Why would he need help?

And honestly, Merlin didn't expect them to. But there was the problem: Arthur _had_ saved him. He could have left, made a run for the knights as most would have- but instead he had made a fire and stayed with Merlin until the druids came, most likely saving his life.

It had taken three days until Merlin had recovered far enough to walk around the camp as he liked. But still, another two days later, he was keeping to his tent.

He hadn't seen Arthur since _that_ day. He knew that the Prince was well and was kept in another tent at the opposite side of the camp- without shackles, since they were at the Shelter and he wouldn't be able to leave without magic or a magic user helping him. The Elders had decided it was too dangerous to move back to their old place, at least for now.

And that was why he had kept to his tent. The Prince could walk freely through the camp- the only way to stay away from him was _not_ to walk around. And he really didn't want to meet Arthur, even if that meant constantly receiving disappointed gazes by Iseldir and Freya. Will had been quiet, taking the full guilt for Arthur's escape- even if Merlin would never blame him. If at all, it would have been his own fault for choosing someone without magic to guard a full trained warrior. Will was good, but not that good.

The warlock knew he should just visit Arthur, at least to say thank you. But he couldn't bring himself to look the Prince in the eye. The son if the man who had made him into what he was; who had burned down his entire village. The man who had given up his freedom to save his captor.

_What for?_ He must have known Merlin wouldn't let him free. Was it all one big scheme to make him trust Arthur? But what could he possibly gain from that?

But it wasn't just confusion that kept him away from the Prince and everyone else. Merlin was pretty sure that Arthur had seen his face. Of course he had been completely wrapped up in his cloak when the druids found him- but the Prince was curious and would have looked at his true appearance, even if only to check for wounds. And while he hadn't talked to anyone about how the "mighty Emrys was barely more than a boy", Merlin simply didn't know how to meet him. There had only been three people who knew what he looked like since he had become Emrys: Iseldir, Freya and Will. His closest friends who felt like family.

Arthur was an outsider here, he was the enemy. He couldn't be trusted.

But Merlin feared that exactly this was happening- he was starting to trust Arthur. Why else had he begun to refer to the Prince with his name instead of his title?

Running a hand through his already unruly hair, Merlin sighed. Then he stopped abruptly next to the chair and grabbed his cloak. He needed to get out of here, out of the Shelter, if only for a few hours. Maybe then he would be able to think more clearly.

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><p>Arthur was questioning his decision to save Emrys.<p>

Well, not exactly to save him, but to stay with him until the druids had come. He could simply have lit the fire and left Emrys- they wouldn't have found him any more slowly if he had been alone. But if Arthur was honest with himself, he knew he couldn't have taken the chance to just leave him- especially not after seeing how young the sorcerer really was.

Even if the ungrateful idiot hadn't even come to talk to him in five days. On the contrary- Arthur had strolled across the whole place over and over again (ignoring the distrustful and nervous looks he got as the druids probably thought he was looking for a way to escape) and hadn't met Emrys anywhere. He didn't even seem to have a tent; or at least no one knew where it was. It seemed like he was evading him, even though Arthur had no idea why. He had told no one about his real appearance- he wasn't stupid.

_If the idiot would just come and talk to me..._

Arthur suppressed the urge to hit his tent and decided to go for a walk instead- as much as he could walk here. He was aching from boredom and too little movement, aching to touch a sword again, to practice- but ge was pretty sure the druids wouldn't be happy to see the man whose father had almost killed most of them run around in their camp with a sword in his hand. They weren't happy to see him running around as it was.

The Prince began to jog, weaving quickly through the tents, to the far side of the place. The whole 'Shelter' as everyone called it wasn't all that big, but still big enough for the druid camp. It consisted of a huge and relatively flat area where all the tent stood, next to little waterfall that ended in an equally small lake with slightly orange water (Freya had told him that those were natural minerals dissolved in the water, but it wasn't ideal to drink or swim in). The place was surrounded by woods- he had once tried to enter them when no one was looking, walking straight forward for several minutes- before he had come out at the other end of the camp, next to the waterfall. The same had happened the next time he had tried. Apparently only people with magic could leave the place- which was most likely why he wasn't in shackles right now.

When Arthur stopped, breathing the fresh air in deeply, he noticed that he was standing in front of the waterfall. He liked this place, even thought it was loud and most people kept away from it, seeing no use in sitting next to the strange orange water- or maybe just because of that. He could be relatively undisturbed here and the water would drown some of his thoughts with its volume. Plus, he had never seen orange water, and it looked rather... nice, actually. It wasn't the bright orange that flames had, more like some jewels- a mixture between orange and red and brown.

Arthur looked up at the top of the hill, where the water came out of a crack in the rock; just below the edge of the forest. If he started at the other edge of the camp, maybe he would come out up there... but his try would have to wait for another day. It was already getting slightly dark and he didn't want to get lost in the forest. Plus, the constant strain of feeling watched, living in the middle of the people he had been trained to fear and hate, left him more tired than usually.

On the spur of a moment, the Prince stepped next to the waterfall, stretching a hand out to feel into the darkness behind it- expecting to feel wet plants. If plants could grow in the mineral water, that is.

Instead he felt- nothing. There was empty air right behind the waterfall.

Curious, Arthur stretched his hand out further until drops of water were hitting his shoulder, reaching into all directions and trying to find some sort of wall, but all he felt was empty air. Without thinking Arthur stretched a foot out until he could feel the ground behind the waterfall. It wasn't a hole, then. Or at least not one that stretched below the ground- no underground lake.

Stepping forward, the Prince walked right through the waterfall- and stood in the darkness of a cave. He froze, trying to hear something over the noise of the waterfall, until his eyes had adjusted to the dim light. The cave wasn't very high or broad, though he couldn't see its end as there was a bend ahead. It was made from rock, looking completely natural. There were no tracks whatsoever- though it would have been hard to leave tracks on the stone floor.

Putting his right hand to the wall so he wouldn't miss a branch-off and get lost in the dark, the Prince walked slowly forward. He wouldn't have had to worry. The cave ended right behind the bend- but not in a wall, as one would think. Instead it opened into another meadow, a small place surrounded by forest, as always. Birds were singing, giving the whole place a peaceful atmosphere. Arthur could see no one, hoping for a second that he had found a way out of the Shelter- but then he spotted a big tent, made from red and blue cloth like the ones in the camp, near the edge of the forest and his hope dissolved again.

Still, the curiosity stayed. Who could probably live in such a place, away from every one else? From what he had gathered, druids were usually pretty outgoing and sociable People. They liked to assemble round the fire in the evenings and at night, even though most of them spent the day together anyways- after all there weren't lots of other places to go. Even if they could leave the Shelter whenever they wanted, it was hardly wise to have druids appear and disappear out of and into thin air while there could still be knights or bandits outside.

There was really only one person he could think of, which made the whole thing even more intriguing. This must be Emrys' home.

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><p><strong>So... like I said, not lots of action. Did you like it anyways? :)<strong>

**Review, please! ^_^**


	15. Chapter 14: Of Dragons and Branches

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>Here's the next chapter... finally on a Sunday (though it's past 11 pm now). I think I'll have to give up on updating every Sunday... so I'll just try to update once a week. But I'm already running out of written chapters. *sigh* Well, I'll do my best.<br>Anyways... thanks for the reviews and favs, and also to everyone who is following this fic.  
>This chapter is quite a bit longer than the last ones, which means the next one will probably be shorter again. I hope you'll like it.<br>Enjoy and please R&R! :)  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 14: Of Dragons and Branches<br>**

_The cave ended right behind the bend- but not in a wall, as one would think. Instead it opened into another meadow, a small place surrounded by forest, as always. Birds were singing, giving the whole place a peaceful atmosphere. Arthur could see no one, hoping for a second that he had found a way out of the Shelter- but then he spotted a big tent, made from red and blue cloth like the ones in the camp, near the edge of the forest and his hope dissolved again._

_Still, the curiosity stayed. Who could probably live in such a place, away from every one else? From what he had gathered, druids were usually pretty outgoing and sociable People. They liked to assemble round the fire in the evenings and at night, even though most of them spent the day together anyways- after all there weren't lots of other places to go. Even if they could leave the Shelter whenever they wanted, it was hardly wise to have druids appear and disappear out of and into thin air while there could still be knights or bandits outside._

_There was really only one person he could think of, which made the whole thing even more intriguing. This must be Emrys' home._

The Prince slowly stepped forward, knowing that Emrys would most likely not be very happy when he found someone in his hidden home. But there was no sound other than those of the bird. Apparently the sorcerer wasn't at home right now. But then, where could he be?

Arthur delayed the question until later, deciding to use the chance to find out a little more about Emrys while he had the chance. Everything he learned could help Camelot if- _when_- he returned to Camelot. Or that's what Arthur told himself. Plus, he was curious. How did the most powerful sorcerer, a man who could have everything he wanted, live?

The answer was: pretty modest. When Arthur stepped into the tent a glowing orb lightened itself, painting the whole room in soft golden light. A blue carpet covered the floor, seeming to absorb dirt- even Arthur's wet shoes didn't leave any traces. _Even better for me._ After all, Emrys didn't need to know that he had been here.

In the middle of the tent there was a big desk with four chairs- probably the most visitors Emrys could get- and a book lying open in front of a chair that was pushed halfway back. On stepping closer Arthur found the pages full of strange forms and characters, ancient writing of the Old Tongue that only the druids still remembered. In a way it reminded the Prince of Emrys. Seemingly an open book- just another powerful sorcerer out on revenge- but as soon as you tried to read him, there would only be nonsense looking back at you.

The book obviously came from a shelf at the opposite side of the room where a few dozen others stood- most of them ancient brown tones with engravings telling their names or use in the characters of the Old Tongue. The kind of books that Arthur had been evading since childhood, when his teachers tried to force him to read them. Apparently Emrys really did nothing for fun- except the whole studying magic was fun for him. Arthur had never really thought about magic being fun to learn- but he did love his sword, so... why not?

In the far corner of the tent there was a bed that looked more like a mattress with a blanket and pillow on top. Not exactly luxurious. The Prince remembered his own bed back in Camelot and winced. Why didn't Emrys get a bed that actually looked comfortable instead of something that gave you an aching back just by looking at it?

Right next to the bed was a small desk, empty except for the figure of a small dragon, carved beautifully from wood. Arthur stepped closer and took it, letting his fingers wander across the smooth wood that looked like honey in his hands, finding a dent at the bottom. On turning it he found a short inscription, reading "To Merlin, last Lord".

_This was the plaything of a Lord?_ Had Emrys stolen it? But what for- and why did he hold it so dear, putting it right next to his bed?

Emrys' father had probably been the one to make this, Arthur mused. He must have been some sort of craftsman, carving delicate figures and statues for rich people- and after his death Emrys must have stolen it back from this Lord Merlin. But even after wracking his mind Arthur couldn't remember a Lord by the name of 'Merlin', at least not in Camelot- and he was pretty sure he would have remembered it. After all 'Merlin' was a pretty unique name. _But why _last_ lord?_

Just as Arthur wanted to put the dragon back down there was a sound outside, like a burst of wind accompanied by a thump and steps moving towards the tent. The Prince was unable to move as the flap of the tent flew open and Emrys entered, obviously not noticing him as he immediately turned his back to Arthur and took his cloak of, throwing it carelessly on a chair. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Arthur watched him, unsure of what to do since Emrys didn't move. He didn't want to stand here and watch the sorcerer for hours- but neither did he want to draw attention to himself. Finally he coughed.

Bad idea. In an instant he was flying through the room, luckily landing on the bed (it was actually softer than it looked, if only slightly), Emrys standing above him with a wild look in his wide eyes and both hands stretched out in front of him. Magic turned the usual gesture of surrender into one of threat.

"Woah, calm down."

Arthur raised his hands too, mirroring the sorcerer's gesture- but with the opposite purpose. Emrys finally seemed to notice who the intruder was and stepped back, looking flustered. One hand instinctively lifted to his head as if to reach for his hood, before realizing it wasn't there. Arthur watched as something akin to panic flitted across the sorcerer's face, before he could hide behind an impassive mask.

"How did you come in?"

"You really aren't the most welcoming type, are you?," Arthur asked back, but Emrys ignored the joke, glaring at the Prince.

"I said how. Did. You. Come in?," he repeated heatedly and this time the Prince shrugged.

"How does one enter a tent? Through the flap."

The sorcerer was still staring at him. "But that's impossible..." Then his eyes widened even more. "Oh."

"What?" Arthur really didn't like being stared at like that. It made him feel like an animal in a show.

"Apparently me healing you has left some magic in your body," Emrys explained, looking annoyed when Arthur couldn't suppress his shock. "Don't worry- it won't hurt you or influence your mind or whatever. It isn't even enough to let you leave the Shelter. But it seems like the spell that stop intruders from entering my tent accepted you because it sensed my magic on you. An inconvenience I will have to work on."

Then his eyes flitted to the dragon Arthur was still holding tightly, and suddenly his stance turned rigid, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "What have you done with it? Give it to me!"

The Prince raised a brow, looking confused. "It's alright, I just picked it up and looked at it. Nothing happened to your precious little dragon."

"Give it to me."

Emrys had one hand stretched out towards him, the other fisted tightly so his knuckled turned white, and Arthur reluctantly gave the figure back- he would have loved to find out more about it and its owner. "Here you are. See? Nothing happened. Why is it so important to you anyway?"

The sorcerer, who had been examining every edge of the wooden dragon closely to make sure that Arthur was speaking the truth, span round to him with sparkling eyes. "That's none of your concern. This whole place is none of your concern. You should have never come here in the first place- and by 'here' I mean the druid camp."

"Well, I never exactly _wanted_ to come here, if you remember," Arthur answered, shrugging. "I didn't choose to be kidnapped and become the royal prisoner of a bunch of druids."

Emrys glared at him, still clutching tightly at the dragon. "You know what you are? You are a royal _ass_."

What was too much was too much. Arthur jumped up from the bed, towering above the sorcerer- only being slightly taller, but a lot stronger comparing to Emrys' lean frame. "_What_ did you just call me?"

"A royal ass. And you should remember your place, Pendragon."

The words reminded him much of the first time he had met Emrys- _"Just remember who's in power here."_ He had already hated the phrase then.

"In fact, I do remember my place. I'm the crown Prince of Camelot, which makes me _your_ Prince too, even if you don't want to see or accept it. And I can speak to my subjects as I want."

This time Emrys actually sputtered, not looking at all like the all-powerful evil sorcerer. "I haven't had a Prince, nor a King, for a very long time. And even if I had one, I would never let myself be reigned by such an arrogant pompous _prat_. You are nothing but a prisoner here, Pendragon. And if your new freedom gives you the wrong idea, I'll gladly arrange to have you confined to your tent once more. There are shields you can't just walk through, you know."

Sensing that he had gone too far (and absolutely _not_ wanting to be confined to his tent), Arthur broke their eye contact and would have taken a step back, if the bed hadn't been in his way. Instead he took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "If that's how you think, then why did you save me in the first place?"

There was a moment of silence as Emrys obviously considered the question. It made Arthur's stomach churn, fearing that the sorcerer regretted saving him by now. Even if it often was inevitable, he didn't exactly _like_ when people hated him. _At least not Emrys. _Somehow those angry blue eyes, sparkling beneath a mob of unruly black hair, hit him harder than the usual magical attacks.

"I don't know," the sorcerer admitted finally more quietly. "But life is precious and worth too much to lose. Even if it comes in form of prats," he added, managing a small grin. Arthur snorted.

"You really have to stop calling me that, though."

"Oh? And what will you do if I don't- beat me up with a book? You would be unconscious before you even touched one of them."

Arthur pretended to overthink the question, weighing the different tomes with his eyes. In the end he shook his head. "No, they would probably break on your big-head anyways. But I could call you idiot from now on. Just to see how the other druids would react to that. Or even better- tell everyone that the great Emrys is really a boy who had to be saved by a prat."

"If you called me an idiot or did _any _of that in front if them, you would probably stand on the stake a few seconds later. They do have a high opinion of me, you know. And magic makes building a stake so much faster."

Arthur couldn't suppress a slight shiver at the playful words, remembering how he had watched sorcerers burn before. It was horrible to burn anyone- the screams, the smell of burning flesh... Emrys seemed to sense his thoughts, grinning bitterly. "Well, that's something. A Prince who objects to the methods of his father. I wonder what Uther would say?"

"He knows."

Arthur hadn't meant to say the words out loud, but now that he had said them he had to elaborate. Emrys raised a brow in surprise. "I have talked to my father several times about his killing methods. At least the axe is quick and painless- but burning people is nothing but cruel. It paints the wrong picture of Camelot."

The sorcerer nodded slowly. "Did you know some of the outer villages like to imitate Camelot? They hold their own burnings. The supposed sorcerers even get a trial there- but if it comes so far, it's already decided that they will die. And the other villagers are proud to have saved the world from more evil, as Uther always puts it."

"They do?"

The Prince stared at Emrys, whose eyes were set on a faraway place- or even time. He hadn't known that the people were influenced that much by his father's actions, to burn their own neighbours. But in hindsight, he should have expected it- especially the outer villages lived in constant fear to get into a war between the kingdoms or be attacked by bandits and sorcerers, living to far away from the capitals for help to come quickly- or at all. Often none of the kingdoms at which's borders the village was built felt responsible for the attack. They tried to protect themselves in any way they could, which subsequently meant burning sorcerers. Or, as Emrys had put it- '_supposed_ sorcerers'.

That also explained why Emrys had reacted so strongly at the prospect of a fair trial back in Camelot if he returned Arthur. His family must come from one of the outer villages.

"I didn't know."

"I've had to rescue a girl from such a burning the day before you... came," Emrys explained quietly, returning to the present. "She was young, training to be a physician- she saved the lives of several people in that village. Probably of all of them, since the illness she cured would have spread else. But then she lost a boy while trying to heal him from being trampled down by a donkey and they decided she had to be a witch. The people whose lives she had saved days ago, who had laughed with her and admired her- they all wanted to burn her. I had to pick her up from the stake in the middle of the fire." He laughed bitterly. "They probably thought it was the devil coming to gather his subjects."

Arthur remained silent, not knowing what he should say to that. The outer villages were hard to control- the burnings would probably go on even if Arthur returned to Camelot and convinced his father to stop them. Though his father probably would be happy that his subjects had started their own fight against magic.

Emrys would be burned immediately, if he ever was to come to Camelot. He was too powerful to be let alive. But having come to know him, the sorcerer seemed... human. He had saved Arthur's life simply out of the belief that a life was something precious, even though he had risked his own life in the process. Emrys wasn't evil or even corrput, even though he probably was the most magical human in the world- he was kind.

But if he wasn't evil, how could magic be?

The thought confused him and Arthur pushed it away, noticing suddenly that they had both been standing there in silence for quite a while, and coughed. "There was something I wanted to ask you."

He paused, trying to find the right words, and Emrys raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Well, I'm used to being able to practice. And if I am to stay here for a long time, I would love to do so."

The sorcerer looked alarmed and Arthur backtracked immediately. "I don't need a sword or any actual weapon- a branch would be enough. I can't sit around or walk through the camp all day, I need something to occupy me. How would you feel if you weren't allowed to do magic anymore?"

Emrys' expression was unreadable and Arthur just hoped he didn't think of how much damage someone could do with a branch- after all there were people who used quarterstaffs to fight. Finally the sorcerer nodded. "I will see what I can do, though I can't promise anything. I won't simply decide over the Elder's heads and they will most likely disagree. So don't get your hopes up just yet."

Arthur nodded, smiling as hope washed through him- despite Emrys' words. He hadn't hold a sword for so long... it would be wonderful to be able to fight again. At least something he had control over.

"Thank you anyways." He hesitated, torn between his tiredness and curiosity and the joy of actually being able to talk to someone, someone who was also his age- even if they were so very different. In the end the tiredness won. "I guess I should go back to my own tent. Before the druids think I've fled and start to search the whole place."

The corners of Emrys' mouth twitched slightly upwards at the mental picture of all druids running through the Shelter, searching frantically for a Prince who wasn't there.

"Yes, you should definitely leave," he agreed, stepping back to let Arthur walk over to the entrance and holding the flap open for him. When Arthur stepped out into a dark he snapped his fingers and a glowing orb appeared above the Prince's head, similar to the one in the tent- only this one was glowing blue.

"It will accompany you to the waterfall," Emrys explained. "The camp will have enough lights on its own and you can't be seen running around with a magical light, can you? It would give the others a heart attack."

Arthur grinned slightly. "Thank you."

The sorcerer simply nodded, a small smile playing around his lips. "Thank you too, for saving my life and staying with me. I know you could have run and I do appreciate you didn't."

Arthur simply nodded, not knowing what to say. "Likewise. I appreciate the help with the bandits- they did have me at a slight disadvantage."

"They did."

Both stood there for a moment in comfortable silence, finally having outspoken themselves. Then Arthur sighed.

"I really have to get going. Good night, Emrys."

"Good night, Arthur Pendragon."

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><p><strong>Sleep... *_* :D<strong>

**I wonder if Merlin realizes how much a 'thank you' by Arthur Pendragon means. Not as much as an apology, but still...**

**Review, please? :)**


	16. Chapter 15: The Sword

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>And here's the next chapter... (yup, I'm great at stating the obvious). Probably not as exciting as the last one, definitely shorter- still, I hope you like it :D.<br>Thank you so much for the reviews, as well as to everyone who is following or has fav'ed this story. And also to those who are simply reading it ;).  
>Enjoy and please R&amp;R! :)<br>**

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 15: The Sword<br>**

Arthur didn't see Emrys again the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after _that_. As the days turned into a week, then two, he started thinking about returning to the hidden tent- and then dropped the thought again. If Emrys didn't want to see him and got another one of his temper tantrums, Arthur's life could get a lot worse than it was right now. Even though he was really wishing for something to train with...

But he would rather walk around freely and not train than be bound to his tent. So Arthur didn't say anything, he didn't search Emrys or go to his tent. (Sitting in front of the waterfall for hours, hoping that the sorcerer would come out, obviously didn't count- he just liked the relative quite there after being imprisoned in a place full of people for _weeks_. Needless to say, Emrys never came.)

Then, two and a half weeks after his meeting with the sorcerer, Arthur woke up one morning to find a wooden sword next to his bedroll.

At first he couldn't quite believe his eyes, slowly reaching for the weapon, as if it could disappear at any moment. It probably could. Living in a camp of sorcerers, one never knew for sure.

To his great relief it didn't disappear. The dark wood felt smooth and cool beneath his fingers, fitting perfectly into his hand, as if it had been made for him. When he lifted it it was lighter than a sword made out of metal- but only a little- and perfectly balanced. This was a sword he could work with.

Letting his fingers close completely around the hilt, the Prince sighed happily, before forcing himself to let go. He had to get dressed and warm up before he could start training and neither would be easy with a sword in one hand. Still, the quarter hour it took him to get ready felt like an eternity.

And then he was standing next to the waterfall once more, sword in his hand, to take a few swings.

It felt as if the sun had rosen in his heart, warm and comfortable- this was what he did best; this was his life, his _home_. Only a trained knight could ever understand how it felt to finally be fighting again.

It made him feel less helpless and more sure, even though he was still captured in a clearing with a whole bunch of druids.

"Can I try too?"

The voice tore him from his thoughts and Arthur span round, sword ready to defend or attack. The girl a few metres away from him smirked. "Not very observent today, are we? Can I try?"

Arthur frowned to hide his embarrassement. Where had she come from? He could swear that he had been completely alone a few seconds ago.

"Try what, the sword? I think that's a bit too big for you."

"Oh, come on!"

Freya grimaced, before quickly switching to a longing gaze that would have let any puppy become green with envy. The Prince couldn't suppress his laughter.

"Alright then."

Instantly the girl was grinning again, already standing next to him and reaching for the sword. And then nearly dropping it as she had underestimated its weight. Arthur quickly caught it.

"You can't just grab it like that," he explained. "You have to hold it like this, see? If you're right-handed the right hand goes directly below the crossguard, that one takes the weight of the sword. The left hand goes to the pommel to move it around."

Arthur demonstrated it while he was talking, moving the sword to the left and right and then feigning an attack. Freya watched, her eyes narrowed in concentration, before taking the sword again and trying to get a firm grip on it. Arthur corrected her slightly and then nodded.

"That's it."

The Prince had to hide a smile. The sword looked absurd, too big for her small fingers, but she did her best to hold it.

"Don't you have a smaller sword?"

Freya shook her head, her tongue sticking out between her teeth as she moved the sword and tried to make an attack. Arthur pulled the sword a little higher and more to the right.

"Like this. If you want to feign an attack you have to be very quick and use the opening while your opponent tries to block you." He paused to take the sword and show her, before he gave it back. This time her grip was almost perfect. She really was a fast learner.

"Well, I guess with Emrys to protect you there is no need for swords. How has he become that powerful? I mean, I've seen lots of sorcerers- but he seems to surpass them all. How does he do that?"

Arthur knew that there was only a slim chance that Freya would actually tell him what Emrys had done to get his power- after all, once you knew the origin, there was usually a way to fight it and the girl seemed pretty protective of the strange sorcerer. But luck seemed to be on his side.

"Of course he surpasses them all. Emrys isn't even a sorcerer, he's a warlock."

Arthur frowned. "Is there a difference?"

"Of course, stupid!"

The girl laughed, before crying out as she stumbled, the weight of the sword unbalancing her as she had lunged forward. Arthur only just managed to grab her before she hit the ground and lifted her to her feet again, ignoring how his heart warmed at the bright grin. She was still a druid, a _sorceress_, no matter how innocent she looked. He could never forget that- she had magic, thus she had to be or would become corrupted in the future. He couldn't change it, even if he wanted to.

"A sorcerer is someone who has learned spells and spent years training to master them, slowly gaining more and more power," Freya explained and the Prince nearly startled, already having forgotten about his question. Then he raised a brow.

"I thought everyone learned spells and then trained to use them. Well, all sorcerers," he corrected himself. "That's why they can be corrputed so easily- they are hungry for power right from the beginning."

Freya snorted. "You really think I'm corrupted or hungry for power?"

"Well... you did want to learn to fight, even though you already have magic," Arthur pointed out, grinning at her to show that he was only joking, but his mind was spinning.

She had put words to the question that had been ghosting through his mind for the past few weeks. The druid camp was full of kids. He could see them sometimes, playing hide and seek (which turned a lot more interesting if you knew spells to make yourself invisible or follow traces). They definitely had magic, which subsequently meant they had to be evil.

Only that they weren't. They weren't any different from the kids in Camelot (well, apart from the added bonus in the hide and seek). And he couldn't wrap his head around it. It was of course possible that magic only corrupted over time and they hadn't had it for very long- but then again, there had been grown man who were only able to utter a few spells and had tried to attack him or his father. These kids were more powerful.

Whichever way he put it, it just didn't make sense.

Freya was smiling softly, her eyes much older than the rest of her face, and for a moment Arthur felt like she knew exactly what he was thinking. Then her wide grin returned and the moment had passed.

"Well, there are also warlocks and witches. They don't need to be taught magic- they just have it. They are a lot more rare than sorcerers, but they exist especially amongst druids. Usually the magic shows during the childhood or puberty. The younger the child his, the more powerful it will be."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at her, but she didn't look like she was joking or telling lies. "So you are...?"

He left the sentence open and she shrugged. "Quite powerful, yes, but the magic still has to grow over time. Though I've only found out about my magic when I was around four. Emrys has had it pretty much since his birth. That's never happened before- imagine a toddler flying around the house!"

She giggled, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to join in. Not only was she completely demolishing his view on magic and sorcerers- she had also just proven again, how powerful the sorc- warlock was.

If it ever came to a fight, Emrys could probably destroy the whole army of Camelot. _But then, why hasn't he already? Why is he hiding in the forest?_

Freya seemed to notice how much she had said and grimaced. "He doesn't like it if I tell others. But you won't tell him I told you, right?"

Arthur forced himself to smile at the worried look from her big blue eyes. "Of course not. Promise."

"Great."

She sighed in relief and was already smiling again and reaching for the wooden sword that she had dropped when she nearly fell. "Now, how do I block an attack?"

* * *

><p><strong>Poor confused Arthur... :D<strong>

**Also, there was one anonymous review I wanted to answer:  
><strong>_**Marc **_wrote (to chapter 8): "This is a good story apart from this very strange idea you have that Merlin/Emrys would find himself drained when using powerful magic. I suppose it's so you can then put Arthur and Merlin in a reverse situation where Merlin is drained of magic and unable to protect himself but it's too OOC."

On the one hand, you are right- I wanted to have a reverse situation. On the other, I simply can't imagine Merlin/Emrys being all-powerful. In my opinion that would turn him too much into a kind of male 'Mary Sue' (idealised character without weaknesses). And I think in the series Merlin felt drained after powerful magic too... for example once he uses the aging spell, and then tells Gaius that he can't use it again, because it's so powerful and draining magic (something along those lines). I hope you can understand :). In any case, thanks for the critic!

**Now... reviews? ;)**


	17. Chapter 16: Magic and swords

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>Again a rather short chapter, but <em>topazchild<em> reminded me a while ago that I still needed a confrontation between Arthur and Will- so here it goes. Also, I know that there's lots of talking right now, but I promise there'll still be some action...  
>As always, thanks a lot for the reviews and to everyone who has followed or fav'ed this fic.<br>Enjoy and R&R! :)  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 16: Magic and swords<strong>

"What the _hell_ are you doing there?"

Arthur span round for the second time from where he was showing Freya the basic defenses, already bringing the sword in front of his body- to protect or to strike. He almost lowered the sword when he recognized Emrys' s friend, Will- but at the furios expression he rather preferred to hold his stance. Especially remembering what had happened the last time they had met.

"I think it's fairly obvious," Arthur replied as calmly as possible, considering he was facing an angry sorcerer. "I'm showing Freya how to defend herself with a sword."

"I can _see_ what you are doing!," Will snapped, turning a bright shade of red. Arthur shrugged.

"Then I don't understand why you asked." A small part at the back of his brain registered that it was probably not the best of ideas to amger a sorcerer, especially one who was part of the group that hold him prisoner- and _especially_ especially one close to their leader. Arthur pushed it away and flashed Will the politest smile he could manage, before he turned to Freya, showing Will his back. The girl frowned, but Arthur didn't notice, too focused on what Will might be doing behind him. His back tingled where he imagined the other glaring at him. Maybe Emrys was right when he called Arthur a prat. It certainly wasn't a great idea to turn his back on a potential threat just to annoy him. But now it was too late to change it anyway, so Arthur just smiled a bit strained. "Where were we again?"

Somewhat to his surprise, the magical attack never came. Instead Will sputtered. "You- you can't just ignore me!"

The Prince fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Now, to block a downward strike you can either move to the side like this-"

"Stop it!"

The command wasn't Will's, but Freya's. The little girl glared up at him (and suddenly seemed rather more deadly than sweet), before frowning at Will. "You are behaving like children. Both of you," she added, raising her voice when the druid tried to interrupt her. "Emrys has talked with the Elders and they have decided that it can't hurt to let Arthur train. He wouldn't be able to escape if he had a whole armory."

"The _Elders_ have decided to give him a sword?," Will repeated incredulously and Freya shrugged with a small one-sided grin.

"_Emrys_ and the Elders have." Her tone of voice pretty much said: 'Emrys has decided and the Elders were forced to ovey, because he is simply the most powerful and has saved most of the druids'. Will snorted.

"Well, even if Emrys deems it wise to... convince the Elders to let our most dangerous opponent with a sword near the wives and children-"

At this, Freya cocked her head interrupting the druid. "I can defend myself well enough, and most of the others can as well!"

Will waved her objection away with one hand. "My point is that I don't understand what you are doing here, Freya."

"She's learning how to use a sword," Arthur threw in. "And thanks for deeming me so damgerous, by the way."

Will glared at him. "She has magic. Why would she need to learn how to fight with a sword? And one that's way too long for her as well. I bet she can't even stop at the right place when she strikes. She needs to concentrate her force on one point-"

Suddenly the druid seemed to notice how much he had said and he fell silent, turning slightly red. Arthur raised his brows in a bad imitation of Gaius. _How he missed Camelot..._ "You seem to know quite a lot about swordfighting for someone who despises it so much. And here I was, thinking druids were a peaceful folk _using their magic to defend themselves_." He moved his fingers at the last part, effectively quoting what Will had said before. Said sorcerer grit his teeth and _growled_ at Arthur.

"If I was peaceful like you seem to think, I would be dead now. Slaughtered by _your_ father's man."

Arthur forced himself not to wince. Was Will right? Could- and would- they remain peaceful if it wasn't for his father? "You still haven't countered your own argument. Why shouldn't Freya learn how to fight, if you have? She isn't too small to hold a sword." _I started training at an earlier age._

Will stayed silent, looking strangely pale, and Freya coughed. "It isn't that much of a big deal, Arthur was just showing me the basics."

The Prince didn't even listen at her, staring at Will, who was evading his eyes. Will, who knew how to fight whilst saying that magic users didn't need to. Will, who hadn't used magic to fight back when Arthur had nearly choked him to escape. Will, who hadn't once used any kind of magic.

"You don't have it."

If possible, the man- _not sorcerer_- turned even paler. "What are you talking about?"

"You have no magic. You have no magic, do you? That's why you know how to fight."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Will said, shrugging weakly, but his eyes betrayed him. They were narrow, staring at Arthur with more hatred than ever before.

"So you aren't a sorcerer. But then, why are you here?"

"I think we should-" Freya began, but Will interrupted her.

"Fine, so I don't have magic. Who cares?"

Arthur could only stare at him. "But then, what are you doing here? You don't have to live with the druids. You could lead a safe and happy life far away from any magic and danger."

Will snorted bitterly. "Yeah, like that did me much good last time. What do you think how I know Emrys? Do you really believe all 'convicted sorcerers' actually have magic? I bet at least a quarter of the people who burned during the Purge was just unlucky healers or something similar." He paused, breathing heavily. "The truth doesn't matter once someone's accused you."

Arthur stared at him, feeling strangely empty "But-"

The people who burned were convicted, alas they had to be magic users. That's what justice was for, right? To punish those who deserve it. No one would kill a simple peasant. Will must be lying, trying to redirect attention from himself and poison Arthur's thoughts. Sure, sometimes people were wrong- but when it got that far, they surely had to be evil. Anything else was simply impossible. Freya shuffled uncomfortably, which made Arthur frown. He wouldn't expect any different from Will than to try and trick him, but Freya? Surely she wouldn't stoop so low.

"You know what?," Will said in that moment. "I don't care what you think. After all you're just another fucking Pendragon. You're all the same- like father, like son. Just, don't think you're any special because Emrys allowed you to train. You are a prisoner here, nothing more. Best remember that."

With that, Will turned abruptly, storming towards the forest. For a moment nobody moved, then Freya sighed and shot Arthur a glance sonewhere between apologetic and accusing. "I'll see you around." Before the Prince could stop her she was running, following Will wherever he had gone to. Suddenly Arthur was standing alone in the silent place- even the waterfall seemed to have quietened slightly.

As the Prince looked at the girl's retreating back, he couldn't help but wonder. In a place that could only be left using magic, wasn't Will as much a prisoner as he was himself?

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><p><strong>Hm... hope you liked it :D. Reviews, please?<strong>


	18. Chapter 17: Friendship

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>Another Sunday- another chapter. I'm really getting good at this :P. Also, this time you get a longer one... and what has happened in Camelot since Arthur's disappearance, anyway? Well, you'll find out soon...<br>I don't have anything left of what I'd written in advance, so right now I'm writing and posting. I'm still trying to keep up the weekly updates though, as you can see ;).  
>As always, thanks for the reviews and for fav's and follows.<br>Enjoy and please R&R! :)  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Don't own Merlin... sadly.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 17: Friendship<strong>

The small group of five bandits seemed pathetic, all huddled together in the middle of the guards. Uther glared down at them and the one who had just looked up, their leader, flinched and dropped his gaze again. The King had to stop himself from snorting. A great leader, this man. "I hear you've got information regarding my son?"

None of them answered, all averting their eyes to not draw attention to themselves. Uther sighed. "I'm sure you know that you'll be executed this afternoon if you don't answer me _immediately_. So it's in your own interest to _answer me now_!"

The last part was shouted, the King unable to contain his anger. Arthur had been missing for _weeks_ no. If he was a mere knight, they would most likely have abandoned the search and declared it hopeless. Most of the people _had_ declared it beyond hope anyway- though of course only while Uther was not around. Apparently they still didn't know that he had eyes and ears everywhere in Camelot. After all, this was _his_ city.

And it was _his_ son who was missing. Not just any peasant or even knight. The search would continue until Arthur was found, alive or...  
>He couldn't bring himself to so much as think the word. Instead Uther focused on the unlucky bandits again, pushing the dark thoughts to the back of his mind. "So, what kind of information do you have? Do hope it's worth my while. I don't exactly like people stealing my time and there is still the possibility of a very slow and painful death for you."<p>

Uther nearly smirked when the bandits flinched again and their 'leader' finally lifted his gaze, if only a bit, and coughed. "I'm sure Your Majesty will find no reason to do that. We saw the Prince."

Suddenly Uther was leaning forward, narrowing his eyes. The man gulped before he continued. "I'm sure this information is worth our lives, would you not agree, my Lord? It wouldn't do to have us executed after we have told everything. That would be-"

"Quiet!"

Uther looked positively thunderous and the guards shifted, prepared to hit their prisoners- or run as fast and as far as they could to escape the King's wrath. But Uther simply smiled, putting his hands together. In a way, this was more frightening than the shouting had been. "Of course I won't have you executed. After all, this could lead to the finding of my son."

The bandits didn't notice the murderous gaze, nor how Uther's smile looked more like a beast baring its teeth than actually friendly. "My Lord is very gracious. What I was about to say is that we have seen Prince Arthur in the forest a few miles from the border to King Cenred's kingdom, about a two days' ride from here in the south. We were just... walking around..." Uther suppressed to roll the urge at the possibly worst lie he had ever hurt. His knights had already started searching there, but had encountered nothing. Those bandits must have followed them in hope of finding Arthur and ransomning him or selling him to the highest bidder. The thought didn't exactly lift the King's mood.

"When was that?," he barked, his eyes settling on the leader. The others seemed to relax, if only slightly, whie the poor man startled.

"Well, about two weeks ago, I think. Something like that."

Uther nodded, knowing this was the best he would get. "Was the Prince hurt? Or did he seem to be under a spell?"

"Not under a spell, no- but he had a stomach wound that was bleeding quite heavily. Probably from a knife. Of course we wanted to patch him up and bring him back to you as soon as possible-"

"Was the wound life-threatening?" Uther didn't know if he wanted the answer to that, but at the same time he couldn't stop himself from asking. The bandit squirmed, obviously trying to think of a lie to appease the King, and Uther glared. "If you want to survive today, tell the truth."

"If it isn't looked after, possibly," the leader said finally and Uther paled slightly, trying to pull himself together at the same time. At least Arthur had still been alive. There was a chance that the sorcerers hadn't killed him, if they hadn't until then.

"But I'm sure the Lord of the Forest will look after him. He seemed very... protective."

The King looked bemused. "The _Lord_ of the forest? I know for sure that there lives no Lord so close to the border."

"Well, he has magic." The man immediately pulled his shoulders up, trying to make himself as small as possible as Uther all but fumed.

"_What?_!"

"The... the Lord of the Forest, Your Majesty. He told us that the Prince was his property and anyone who tried to steal him would pay bitterly. And he said that the Prince was useless to him if he died," the man added, obviously glad that he had remembered that detail. "But, Your Majesty, no one can know that we said that. The Lord said that he would come after us if we told anyone about him. He wanted us to say that a group of rebellious druids in the north had caught the Prince."

"He will come after you? That's... interesting," Uther mused, a small smile appeaing on his face as he thought. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

The bandit shrugged. "Only that the Lord is very, very powerful. He is like a ghost of the forest. We could even see through him. But he knows everything that happens in the forest and he has killed one of us."

At the last words he started shaking, most likely less from the death of a colleague and more from the prospect of that happening to him. Uther nodded slowly. "If I ever get to know that you have lied to me, you will find a very slow death, as you surely know. Now, take them to the dungeons to rot." The last part was addressed to the guards, who instantly nodded and grabbed their prisoners, glad to escape the King's presence. The bandits froze and their leader stared at him with wide eyes.

"But you said we would be free!"

"No, I said I wouldn't kill you," Uther corrected him with a pleasant smile. "Also, our dungeon is very secure, so I'm sure you won't have to fear your Lord of the Forest while you are in there. Which is for the rest of your pitiful little lives. Take them away."

The bandits didn't even try to fight as they were led to the dungeons, too shocked from the King's sudden change of mood. As soon as he was alone, Uther stood up from his throne to pace the room.

Finally, _finally_, there was a sign of Arthur. Now nothing could stop him from saving his son. And if this 'Lord of the Forest' decided to come and have revenge on the bandits, just the better- a group of guards would always be near the bandits to catch him. The King smiled.

Yes; for the first time since Arthur had disappeared everything was running smoothly.

* * *

><p>"Why did you do that?"<p>

Merlin only sighed, not even turning from where he was studying a spellbook, already having heard Will approach before he had actually burst into the tent. It also helped that only Will, Iseldir and currently Arthur could enter his tent- and only one of them regularly burst in like this.

"Hello to you too."

His friend ignored the resignated greeting. "Why. The. Hell. Did you give Arthur Pendragon a sword?"

Finally Merlin stood, pushing his chair back as he turned to face Will, starting to answer- but was instantly interrupted by the man. "It isn't enough that he has been in our camp for more than two weeks now, no. You also had to give that pompous arrogant _idiot_ a sword to train with! Merlin, that man has murdered _hundreds_ of magic users- and you let him train in a camp full of druids!"

"It's a wooden sword," Merlin interjected, frowning as his friend paced the tent furiously. "Calm down before you walk a hole into the floor. It's not all that easy to repair, you know."

Will snorted angrily but stopped, if only to glare at Merlin. "It's a sword nonetheless. And there's a whole clan of fighters that only use _staffs_ to fight. A trained knight can do lots if damage with a _wooden sword_. And in case you didn't notice- he's the _head_ of those knights!"

"And, like you said, he's in a camp if druids. If he acts up and attacks someone, all it takes is one word to have him un chains once again." Will tried to interrupt, but Merlin simply spoke over him. "Listen- I've been through all of this with the Elders already. I don't want to have the same argument that I had with a group of arrogant old men with my best friend."

Will sighed, his gaze finally turning from murderous to resigned as he grimaced. "And here I was, thinking a best friend was there to tell you when you're walking blindly in a nest of snakes. Or more like a nest of snakes with a deep and deadly pitfall and a few hungry bears."

Merlin winced. "It's not that bad."

"No, you're right," Will answered, shaking his head. "It's even worse. But since you're the all-powerful Emrys, I'm sure you know better than everyone else. You always do, don't you? You probably don't even care what others say, since you could turn them into toads or something anways if they protested."

Merlin straightened from where he had slumped against the table and took a step towards Will, the air around them thick and crackling with magic as he glared at his friend. "What's your problem, Will? Everything is under control. You're only making up difficulties, because you're too stubborn to see that there could be something _good_ in a Pendragon. Or is it because of my magic? It never bothered you before that I'm powerful and you can't even light a candle, did it?" He stared at Will, but the other only averted his eyes, gazing at his shoes instead. It spoke more than words could have and Merlin huffed. "I thought I had finally found someone who wasn't a bootlicker or full of envy," he continued, pausing again and turning to look at the bookshelf behind Will as he couldn't bear to look at the man. Then Merlin whispered, more to himself than to anyone else: "I guess I was wrong."

Will stood frozen where he was as the seconds stretched into hours, before he nodded slowly. "I see. Well, you should probably know that while you've been hiding in your tent most of the camp have come to share my opinion. And that some are even talking about how to best overthrow you or distract you long enough to kill your beloved Pendragon."

"Will-" Merlin frowned, already regretting his harsh words. Will didn't just yell at him- he had come to warn him. The warlock took a hesitant step forward, but his best friend since childhood was already backing away, turning towards the entrance of the tent.

"No _Lord Emrys_. I've had enough. And since I'm obviously not even your friend... consider this as a last advice, in remembrance of whatever we shared during all those years." The brown-eyed paused, gazing intently at Merlin even as the warlock was recoiling from the formal address. "Get rid of the Pendragon brat as quickly as possible, or I can't guarantee for anything. Even with all your power you can't stop half of a druid camp. And you certainly can't stop an army."

With that Will turned away and walked out, leaving the stunned warlock behind. As Merlin felt a wave of dread wash over him, he couldn't help but wonder if he had just lost his best and only friend forever.

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><p><strong>I hope Will ddn't seem too OOC- I imagined that he would still be angry after the scene with Arthur and just lash out, especially since Merlin does seem a bit ignorant here :P.<strong>

**Tell me what you think? :)**


	19. Chapter 18: Discussions

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>Alright, I know it's been a long time since the last update... and I'm sorry. It was all a bit too much and then my inspiration went missing... so let's just skip the apologies and continue with the story.<br>Thanks for the reviews and to everyone who has favourited/ is following this story. And, well, to everyone who is still reading it, despite the huge delay.  
>Enjoy and please R&amp;R! :)<br>**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 18: Discussions<strong>

Arthur hadn't been training with his sword for weeks- and now his body took revenge. As the Prince walked towards the waterfall just as he had every morning since he had gotten the sword, he could swear that every muscle he had was aching. _And it has only been four days of training. _Wasn't it great to find out just how many muscles one had? Still, it couldn't quite wipe the small grin from his face as he grabbed the handle firmly, resisting from swinging his sword while he was still standing in the middle of the tents.

He was just walking around a particularly big tent made from dark blue cloth- a place where the druids would eat and sit together when it was raining- when it happened. A rustling of cloth. The softest of whispers. Pretending to examine his sword, Arthur stopped and took a inconspicuous look around. At first, everything seemed at piece, even the whispers stopping- but he could just make out a hint of movement in the gap at the corner of the tent.

Straightening again, the Prince tried to hide his smirk when he made to start walking again, and then abruptly shot round, his sword stretched out towards the tent in a feign attack followed by a few elaborate strikes. He was rewarded by shouting and the sound of something falling on the ground as the kids that had secretly been watching him backed away, stumbling over each other.

Arthur couldn't keep the smirk from his face for any longer, grinning like a fool as a dark-haired head appeared from the inside of the tent. Freya glared at him. "Ha ha. How very funny."

Arthur shrugged. "You were the one watching me so very surreptitiously with your friends."

"That doesn't mean you can just do _that_!," a boy exclaimed, appearing next to Freya. Slowly the other kids disentangled themselves from the mess, crowding the entrance of the tent. They looked a mixture between flustered and nervous and Arthur was taking pity on them. After all, he had played the same game when he was younger- sneaking away from his lessons to watch the knights train. Though he hadn't gotten caught quite so easily- he had learned his lesson after the first time.

"You are right, that wasn't any fair or noble, like a knight should behave." He paused, pretending to think. "How about I show you what a knight should really do? Who wants to see how to fight with a sword?"

The children were all staring at him with big eyes and Arthur forced himself to grin, suddenly unsure if he hadn't gone too far. After all, he was talking to druids- even if they were still very young- and lots of them or their families had probably suffered because of his father's hunt for magic. Hell, he had probably killed one of their fathers or brothers himself. _Just what am I doing?_

Then the boy next to Freya stuck out his tongue. "Just give me that sword and _I'll_ show _you_!"

Arthur raised his brow, looking his young opponent up and down mock-doubtfully, while he was secretly sighing with relief. "So you think you can fight better than me? I've already shown that I can take you down with one blow- and I haven't even touched you."

"Robin could probably take you apart with less than that." The voice came from behind Arthur's back and everyone turned to look at Emrys, who had appeared next to a tent. "If he has actually attended his lessons for once, that is."

Arthur could hear the smirk behind the sorcerer's words and the druid boy shrugged, nodding slightly as a sign of respect. "I would always attend the lessons, if they weren't so boring. I don't want to learn how to make plants grow faster- I want to fight, like you can!"

Now Emrys really snorted, shaking his head, though Arthur thought he could see his shoulders tense momentarily. "All in time. If no one could work with plants, where would our food come from? You do like the apples and the bread, don't you?"

Robin grimaced. "There are girls for that."

"Hey!"

Now it as Freya's time to interrupt and glare at him. "I'm more powerful than you are. If someone should look after the plants, it's you!"

"That's not even work for a real man!"

"So what? You aren't even a men ye-"

"Freya, Robin, that's enough!"

Emrys hadn't even raised his voice, but the kids instantly fell silent, turning to glare at each other instead. "It's time for your lessons anyway, I think. Or I should probably talk to Thania about how your breaks are too long. After all, we wouldn't want you to get into an argument and then accidentally set someone's hair on fire, right, Robin?"

The boy flushed as a few of the others snickered. They stopped quickly though when Emrys turned his gaze on them. "And you should start to master fire spells before you start laughing at him. Now, off you go."

Finally the children left, some- like Robin- sending a longing glance at Arthur's sword first. He shrugged apologetically. Maybe he would be able to show them something later.

The Prince turned back to Emrys, suddenly noticing that he was alone with the sorc- warlock. Who was staring at him rather thoughtfully.

"He likes you."

"What?" Arthur frowned, until Emrys nodded towards the blue tent where the children had disappeared. "Robin. And some of the others as well."

The Prince shrugged. "Well, I'm a likeable person. Listen, I wanted to... talk to you- about the sword. I know it can't have been easy to... well, allow me to have one in the middle of your camp..." He trailed off, unsure how to continue. "I just wanted to tell you that I... appreciate it. Really."

Emrys's laughter startled him, making the man sound more like a boy than a dark and gloomy sorcerer- more like the slightly too pale guy with the big ears and hair that hadn't seen a decent cut in years. Arthur frowned.

"What's so funny?"

"Is it so difficult to just say 'thank you'?," Emrys asked, still with a smile in his voice. Arthur felt his face turn slightly red as he straightened instinctively, sticking his chin out. _"A Prince doesn't say 'thank you'. It is expected that everyone around him will do their best to please him."_

"Thank you."

The two words almost got stuck in his throat but he brought them out nonetheless, swallowing what he had been about to say. It was probably true while he was in Camelot- but here, amongst sorcerers, the best he would have expected a few weeks ago was to either escape- or go down fighting. All of a sudden, his throat felt strangely tight. _What has happened to that Arthur?_ When had he stopped despising everything that had to do with magic?

Emrys's huff tore him from his thoughts and as he looked up, the warlock eyed him curiously. "You never cease to surprise me, you know."

"At least you'll never get tired of talking to me, then."

Emrys shook his head. "More like frustrated." He started walking into the direction Arthur had been going, only stopping when he noticed that the Prince wasn't following him. "What are you waiting for? You aren't the only one who has something to say."

"Something to say?" Arthur furrowed his brows, hurrying to follow the warlock as he had already disappeared behind the next tent. "What do you mean?"

Emrys ignored his question, taking a quick look around. "Let's go somewhere not so... open. As you have seen, the walls can have ears here."

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><p>Arthur was standing in the middle of Emrys's tent, trying not to show his discomfort too openly as the sorcerer himself was standing with his back to him at the table- the way he had since they had entered the tent. Completely ignoring his guest. <em>If that's what I am at the moment.<em> He certainly wasn't treated like you everyday prisoner or hostage any more. He hadn't been for quite some time.

The Prince coughed in an attempt to catch Emrys's attention and the warlock sighed, turning back towards him and pushing the hood back with the same movement. The look with which he examined Arthur was completely blank, his eyes like the surface of a lake- calm and clear, but unimaginably deep.

_He doesn't even need the hood to be unreadable_, Arthur thought to himself. It wasn't exactly reassuring.

"We need to talk. From one... leader to the other."

Arthur raised a brow, surprised at both the statement and the obvious discomfort at the word 'leader'. He had been leading the druids for years; had probably saved most of them- how could he still be unsure about his title? _Or was it because he had told Arthur several times that he wasn't a Prince whie he resided here?_

"As you may have noticed, I'm not exactly the leader of my people," Arthur pointed out. "My father is. And even with I was, I don't think I'm in the position to speak to you as a leader- I'm at a slight disadvantage, as you pointed out so nicely during our first meeting."

Emrys waved the objection away with one hand. "You are more of a leader than your father will ever be." He didn't give Arthur time to answer, immediately continuing- which was just as good, because Arthur wouldn't have known what to say. Protest in his father's place or take the unexpected compliment?

"More and more people want to get rid of you."

Now, _that_ was something he could understand- what he had expected from the beginning, when he had just been kidnapped. Arthur straightened, instinctively grabbing the wooden sword at his side a little more firmly. If Emrys noticed, he didn't say anything.

"Most think that it was a mistake to kidnap you- but now they say that it was an even bigger mistake to let you live. Almost everyone here has lost someone dear to them, either directly or indirectly at the hands of your father." He paused. "I can't say that I don't understand them-"

"So that's what you've brought me here for?," Arthur interrupted him, unable to suppress the wave of disappointment and, however stupid it was, _betrayal_ that nearly crushed him. So much to Emrys being different. Well, he should have known, Arthur told himself bitterly. There was none such thing as an even partly good magic user. "To kill me, where none of the kids could see it?"

He felt the urge to bring up the sword, try to fight his way out, but didn't. It would have been a hopeless attempt anyway. Even if he did make it out of this tent alive (and his chances weren't all that great), there was a whole camp of sorcerers on the other side of the waterfall- and no way out. No; if he had to die he would die with dignity.

Emrys's eyes had widened at his words- probably surprised that he didn't try to fight, Arthur thought. _Had it all been one big game, giving the naive Prince a wooden sword to see how far they could push him towards trusting them- and then let him use it to fight for his life?_ It sure made for a good show.

The Prince forced himself not to grimace or shiver, instead looking Emrys right into the eyes. Th warlock stared back, his mouth opening and closing once, twice, before he reached out abruptly. This time Arthur couldn't help but flinch. Immediately, the sorcerer pulled his hands back, attempting a calming stance. As if he couldn't cast spells if his hands didn't point at Arthur.

"No, no- you didn't let me finish! I wanted to say that I can understand how they feel, but I don't want to sacrifice you because of something your father did or made you believe. It's never fair to let a son pay for his father's mistakes."

He looked so flabbergasted that Arthur almost believed him, relaxing slightly. Still, some of his suspicion remained. "So what is it that you want to do?"

Emrys sighed and shrugged, an ironic half-smile appearing for a moment. "I have no idea."

Arthur almost started laughing, too surprised at the sudden turn of events. "So you're saying that I'm only still alive because they know that you're more powerful?"

"Pretty much." Emrys frowned. "Although I do like to pretend that some respect me because of who I am, not because of my power. I'm not that bad a leader, whatever you may think."

"I don't think you're a bad leader," Arthur corrected him. "I only think that your opinions differ quite a lot from theirs."

The warlock nodded, his eyes drifting off for a moment, before he shook his head and returned to the present. Arthur wondered what he had seen. His life before becoming Emrys, the druid leader?

"The point is, if things stay as they are I'll soon have to face a revolution- and although I don't doubt that I could get away, I fear that wouldn't be possible for you or for some of the others."

"I thought druids were a peaceful folk," the Prince interjected. "You make it sound like they are an army."

Emrys shrugged, leaning back against his desk. "They are powerful and don't want to keep hiding for all of their life, always fearing to be caught and executed. That's not even a real life." Arthur caught the trace of bitterness behind the words, but wasn't too surprised by it. He already knew that Emrys had faced death a few times too often because of his magic. "I'm powerful, but even I can't stop an army- especially not one that's comprised of sorcerers. Those men want to kill you and your father to take the throne. And since James is their leader, he would probably try to reverse the current situation."

"You mean he would kill the people without magic?" Arthur felt goosebumps rise on his arms as the warlock nodded. "But there are thousands of people there, thousands of innocents!"

"There were also thousands of sorcerers before the Great Purge. Now there are only a few hundreds left."

"We would have another Great Purge," Arthur finished. Emrys agreed.

"Only worse. Magic is very useful to track people down and kill them on the spot." He paused, watching as the Prince gazed down on his own feet- remembering only to easily what it was like to fight against sorcerers. And he had been training how to fight since birth, unlike all the peasants.

"Maybe now you understand why I felt the need to talk."

Arthur snorted, though his face was grave. "Of course. But what can we do?"

For the first time since they had come here, a smile crossed the warlock's lips. Still, his eyes remained cold and determined. "All of this started when those idiots decided to kidnap you. So we'll do the closest thing to undoing it- you will return to Camelot."

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><p><strong>*drum roll* ...to be continued. (Sooner than last time :P.)<strong>

**Also, I'm grateful for all reviews *hint, hint*.**

**Review responses (yup, I'm starting this again):  
><strong>**Someone: **Thanks for your review! (And as well for the ones for my other stories :D.) Arthur will eventually find out Merlin's name... I haven't quite decided when, though. And I'll definitely update Russian Roulette, but I want to focus on this story right now- though of course, I'll try to resume updating as soon as possible. Which means it might actually take me less than a year :P. Hope you don't mind the wait too much...

**Clairepenndragon: **Well, hi there again! :D I'm really, really sorry for the wait (though I guess since you haven't hunted me down yet, you're either far more patient than I could ever be or I've just hidden well enough :P). I'm happy that you like the story. I'm not sure how to end it yet, which might be part of why I'm updating so slowly, but I'm doing my best to figure it out...  
>Anyway, thanks for the review- and nice to see you again! :)<p> 


	20. Chapter 19: Decisions

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>I said it would be sooner than last time, right? So here I am again with a new chapter... not much action, I fear, but there will be some more soon.<br>Thanks for all the _amazing_ reviews! They absolutely made my day.  
>Enjoy and please R&amp;R! ;)<br>**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 19: Decisions<strong>

"I will _what_?"

All Arthur could do was stare at the warlock, the all-powerful Emrys, who had just declared that he would send the son of his greatest enemy- for that's what Uther was, even if it was strange to think of his father like that- back home. In the same tone of voice that others might use to say that the weather is nice today, oh, and have you already heard the latest gossip?

Emrys looked back at him, both eye brows raised in a half-amused half-weary way. "You should see your face. That look alone is worth the risks."

Arthur tried very hard to get back in control, finally closing his mouth. Still, he couldn't tear his gaze away from that _boy_ with his too-big ears and unruly hair who could so easily decide over the Prince's fate. That boy that who smirked at him as if they were on the same side, even though they could hardly be further apart.

"When?," he finally brought out. Emrys shrugged.

"Better not waste any time. How about now?"

Arthur felt his mouth falling open again all by itself, but before he could say something or at least close it and regain some dignity there was the sound of footsteps outside and a few seconds later a cloaked man entered. Tall and white-haired, the newcomer looked like the perfect image of a druid- proud and regal, but with small wrinkles around his eyes indicating that he liked to smile. Emrys nodded in ways of a greeting. "Iseldir."

The druid nodded back, worry etching new lines in his face as he glanced at Arthur. "So you still want to go through with this."

"I do."

Emrys's carefully calm tone of voice told Arthur that they had already discussed this or probably argued about it, but he wouldn't change his opinion. Iseldir must also have realized this, for he only sighed. "We could send someone else."

"...who would break down in the middle of Camelot after using all their strength for the teleporting spell. We've been over this."

"I still don't agree and I'm pretty sure the others wouldn't either. Freya specifically told me to keep you from doing something stupid."

Emrys snorted, but this time it didn't sound amused. "That sounds exactly like her. If you have any better ideas, pray tell. If not, there's no reason to linger."

Iseldir bowed slightly, which looked strange now that Emrys didn't wear his hood. As if he had read the Prince's thoughts, the warlock reached for his cloak and put it on, leaving the hood off.

"Maybe you should leave the sword here," he suggested, turning back to Arthur with a wry grin. "It might make the story of the evil druid holding you prisoner a little unbelievable."

Arthur snorted as he laid the sword on the table, his hand resting for another second on the wooden hilt. He had owned it for less than a week, but he still didn't like letting go of it. "Don't worry- my father would probably think that I was under a spell."

His voice sounded more bitter than he had wanted it to and Arthur coughed, ignoring Iseldir as the druid eyed him, obviously surprised at the tone of voice. "Can I... say goodbye to Freya?"

He could swear he saw Emrys flinch slightly before the warlock could cover it up, trying for a pleasant smile that still looked slightly like a grimace. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why?"

Iseldir only sighed as Arthur frowned, trying to figure out what the problem was. He knew Freya liked him- she surely wouldn't want him to disappear without saying goodbye. At the same time he noticed the irony of it all- him, the prisoner, asking to be able to say goodbye to one of druids that had held him captive now that he was about to be set free. Then he suddenly understood.

"You haven't told her that you'll bring me back."

Emrys, who had ignored the first question, winced. "Not... exactly. Now, do you want to go home or not?"

"Of course I do, but-," Arthur started, but Emrys interrupted him quickly.

"No 'but's. Come on." He stepped forward, grabbing Arthur's upper arm tightly like the guards dragging a prisoner of. Though the Prince preferred this to getting lost in the nowhere during the teleportation.

"Good luck."

Emrys nodded at the druid, smiling slightly. "Thanks, Iseldir. I hope I won't need it."

Arthur saw the druid's stoic expression slipping, revealing a worried and sad face, but the next second everything had already disappeared in a whirlwind of colours.

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><p>His decision had been a bit rushed, that he had to admit. But Merlin simply couldn't think of any other way out.<p>

He had done some research during the last few days. It wasn't as if he didn't trust Will (he would trust him with his life, even now), but Merlin needed to have witnessed it with his own eyes before he could truly believe it. Though of course, in the end, it had been exactly like Will had said. He could almost hear his friend's smug _'I told you so'_.

On the first day, he had tried talking to Iseldir and a few other powerful druids. Most of them had quickly let the topic drop, their averted eyes telling him all that he needed to know, but some had repeated Will's warning- filling it with observations of their own. Iseldir had nodded gravely. "I fear what you have heard is true, though they do take care not to let anyone hear who would tell you. I only know what I've gathered from rumours and whispers. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about it soon. We need to find a solution before things get out of hand."

And things were spiralling down fast and hard. It was two days later that found Merlin wandering aimlessly about the forest, just inside the border of the Shelter, as he suddenly heard something. A rustling of cloth, little twigs snapping. Hushed voices.

"...need to... but... Emrys..."

Merlin peeked up at the latter, his interest already awakened as he slowly crept forwards- careful to avoid any twigs or old leaves. He was rewarded by the sight of several druids standing in a small group in the middle of the forest. Ducking behind a tree before he could be spotted- wary of using his magic, in case one of them might feel the power- Merlin crouched down and listened closely. He could hear the words clearly over the usual sounds of the forest, most of the birds having fled the humans anyway.

"...can't continue like this. Pendragon is treated like a guest rather than a prisoner! And as if that wasn't bad enough, now he even has his own sword to train with. Probably so he doesn't get bored."

"He'll kill us all!" another man interjected. Merlin recognised him has Aenian, an old sorcerer who liked to talk about the old times before the Great Purge, 'when everything was still the way it was meant to be and life still beautiful'. "Pendragon trains every day, I hear. Good fighting skills need to be constantly sharpened. It's those skills that helped him murder my wife and son!"

Murmurs grew like an ocean, flowing around the small group. All of them agreed with Aenian in some way, some telling stories of their own similar to his, encouraged by the example. Soon the whispers were swelling to loud discussions as everyone wanted to make themselves heard. Then there was a cough and all fell silent at once, turning to the one man in the middle who had remained quiet so far. James waited until he was sure that he had all their attention before he started speaking.

"My dear friends." Merlin could already feel the hair on hid neck rising at the silky sound of the sorcerer's voice. "I know you feel betrayed. Emrys has promised to protect us and now he hasn't only brought our worst enemy into this hidden Shelter-" he seemed to forget conveniently that he had been the one to kidnap Arthur in the first place "-but now he also allows him to wander around freely, sword in his hand. Only yesterday I saw him with some children, pretending to teach them how to fight. I must say I wouldn't be surprised if his lessons did end badly for a child."

Again the whispers became louder, enraged, and James had to shush them. "Do not fear, my friends, for the Pendragon brat will not endanger our children for much longer. In fact, I can promise you that this threat will be gone by the end of the week."

"Will Emrys sell him back to Camelot?," one of the men asked, but James only laughed at this. The sound echoed through the forest like the caw of a crow.

"Oh no, Emrys will do no such thing. In fact, good sources tell me that he plans on letting Pendragon stay here indefinitely. No; if we want this to end, we must take matters into our own hands."

"What do you propose?"

Merlin was glad to hear the barest hint of suspicion in the man's voice, before the others joined in, getting braver.

"Should we kill Pendragon?"

James' smirk was nothing but evil. He had them exactly where he wanted them. "Now, killing is such a harsh word... but accidents happen every day, don't they? And wouldn't it be unfortunate indeed for Pendragon to get hit by a big tree branch or drown in the lake?"

All Merlin could do was listen, completely and utterly stunned. James wasn't just asking them to riot- this was murder, blind revenge. And the other druids didn't even seem all that shocked or disturbed at the idea. _How could I have missed this?_

The warlock had to force himself not to jump from his hiding spot and shake them, yelling what the hell they were thinking. Instead be started to slowly slink backwards. If he had to hear any more of this, he might actually lose his self control. And while James wasn't a great leader, these men seemed to hang on his every word.

The last thing Merlin heard was James' dirty laugh, followed by: "Just a few more days, then you can all feel safe again."

It was then that he made his final decision. He had to bring Arthur back to Camelot- even if it meant risking his life to do so.

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><p><strong>I hope you liked it- as always, please tell me what you liked or didn't like. It's the only way I can improve ;).<strong>


	21. Chapter 20: Camelot

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>I might be a bit late again... only by about three months *coughs*. But I'm doing NaNoWriMo again this year and so far I'm on time which means I've written about 30k words- and all for fanfictions! They need some rewriting of course, after November, but there's hope that I will update faster.<br>Originally, I didn't want to update during November because I have enough to do with school and writing 1667 words a day... but since today is my birthday, I decided that I had to update. Everyone who has been reading this despite my irregular updates, and _especially _especially those who review deserve a huge thank you- so, here it is. A new chapter just for you! :P  
>To make it quick, enjoy and please R&amp;R! :)<br>**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. I do own tons of plot bunnies that keep running down the fences I build.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 20: Camelot<strong>

"Well, I'm glad I never had to stay here."

Arthur ignored Emrys, keeping his eyes closed even though the world had materialised around them a few seconds ago- willing his stomach to settle. _Just breathe in and out again. Calm._

The smell that reached his nostrils didn't exactly help as he heaved, tasting bile in his mouth. Apparently they had landed in the dungeons.

"I mean, I know you keep only criminals and... sorcerers here, but seriously? That smell is disgusting. And from what I can see, you should definitely get some fresh straw for the ground. Oh, and maybe do something about the light- it's pretty dark here, wouldn't you agree?"

He finally seemed to notice that Arthur wasn't answering and turned back towards the Prince. "Arthur? Are you alright?"

Arthur slowly opened his eyes, finally winning the fight against his lurching stomach. "Yes." He coughed, avoiding Emrys's eyes. "Of course."

The warlock possessed the indignance to grin at him. "Right. I didn't figure you to be one to become travel sick."

"That might be because I am not."

Straightening, Arthur met Emrys's gaze- barely noticing how far the sorcerer's hood was pulled back as Emrys sent him an unbelieving look. "Even Princes aren't immune to getting sick, you know that, don't you?" Before Arthur could answer he turned back around, his eyes sweeping across the dark stone walls. "I hope it's alright if I drop you off here. As cozy as this place looks, I don't really need to have a run-in with your father right now. I already have enough narrow-minded idiots on my hands." He sent Arthur a tight smile that took the heat out of the insult. "So I guess this is good-bye."

"It seems so," the Prince answered, for once letting the affront to his father slide. After all he had discovered that sorcerers weren't all as evil as Uther made everyone believe. _If he was wrong in one point, was he really right about everything else?_ And how could it be that he, who had always valued loyalty and faith, was questioning all he had always believed in after such a short time in the druid camp?

Arthur pushed the thought from his mind, at least for now. He would be able to ponder it later, when he was back in his own room and not in the middle of some clammy dirty dungeon with the threat of war looming over their heads. _There was even a soft noise in the background, like water dropping on stone. They definitely needed to look more after the dungeons._

Instead he smiled at Emrys. "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I hope I won't see you again all that soon."

The warlock laughed. "Me too. Now, let's stop stalling, before your father or a few druids decide to start a war after all. I would rather never hear of you again than meet you on the battle field." He paused, looking around, before pointing down the hallway to their right side, behind Arthur's back. "That must be the way into the castle. Good-bye, Prince Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur just wanted to reply when he suddenly saw a movement in the corner of his eyes, right where the hallway took an abrupt turn behind Emrys's back. The warlock noticed his look and started to turn around, frowning.

And that was when the whole world descended into chaos.

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><p>Later, Merlin would curse himself for not paying closer attention. He was standing in the middle of Camelot after all- even if it was the dungeons, where there weren't too many people who weren't convicted of sorcery themselves- and he had known from the beginning how dangerous this was. So he really should have been paying attention.<p>

He should also have made himself ready to teleport back as soon as the slight nausea that was partly caused by travelling this way and partly by using so much magic at once had stopped and his stomach settled again.

Instead, he laughed as Arthur commented "I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I hope I won't see you again all that soon." After all, he had had more or less the same thought.

"Me too. Now, let's stop stalling, before your father or a few druids decide to start a war after all. I would rather never hear of you again than meet you on the battle field."

Because, even if he didn't like to admit it, Arthur would be a more than worthy opponent- even considering his own magic. The Prince was a hell of a sword fighter and, if the rumours were correct, he could fight just as well with pretty much every other weapon. Merlin didn't doubt those rumours one second.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, the warlock glanced around, before pointing at the hallway that disappeared into the shadows behind Arthur's back. Apparently they hadn't bothered to light enough torches to light the whole place, and they were too far inside of the dungeons for the sunlight to reach them. After all, Merlin didn't exactly want to appear right on the stairs into the castle, considering the guards that were usually put in such places. Even if they weren't the most intelligent sort, and guards rarely seemed to be, they might just notice if a sorcerer teleported right in front of their nose.

"That must be the way into the castle. Good-bye, Prince Arthur Pendragon."

Merlin smiled and nodded in the direction of the Prince, already calling on his magic to disappear as swiftly as possible, when it happened.

In hindsight, he shouldn't have let them catch him by surprise. But as it was, the only warning Merlin got was the slight widening of Arthur's eyes as the Prince suddenly stared into the darkness behind him. Then someone- or something- shoved him forwards and he stumbled, instinctively reaching out to stop his fall. His fingers even touched the ground for a second before his arms gave in and he crashed to the ground.

"Ow."

The warlock wasn't sure if the sound had even made it across his lips, the whole world turning strangely dull and hazy. In the background, he could faintly hear Arthur shouting and tried to turn his head, wondering what was going on. When he still didn't see any better, Merlin reached out with his hands that had been caught between his body and the ground to touch his own face. His hand felt strangely wet on his cheeks.

In the corner of his eyes, red whizzed past, and then there was another sound and someone was kneeling next to him.

Golden hair gleamed in the dim light of the flames as Arthur bent down across him, reaching for something on his side that Merlin couldn't see. He wasn't prepared at all for the pain that suddenly shot through his body, red and hot and searing and in some way _too __loud_, but it made the whole world come into focus once more- long enough to gaze from his sticky red hands to Arthur's worried face and to the red cloak of the guards that stood behind him and were apparently trying to figure out what their Prince was doing.

Then everything- the cloaks, his hands, the Prince- disappeared in a swirl of bloody red.

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><p><strong>Another cliffhanger, I know... but I do love the whump :D. Review, please? <strong>

**(It's my birthday! And reviews always make my day regardless of the date ^-^.)****  
><strong>


	22. Chapter 21: New Allies

**Author's Note:  
><strong>

**Hi everyone:)  
>Yup, I've managed to update again... finally. At least it's still 2014. Barely.<br>Anyways, I wanted to tell you that I have already finished this whole fanfiction- all I have to do now is edit and post it, so the updates might come a bit faster next time. Or at least I'll try.  
>As always, a huge thanks to everyone who reviewed (and especially for all the congratulations I received for my birthday :)).<br>Enjoy! :D  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. :(**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 21: New Allies<strong>

When Merlin woke up, it was to darkness and a pounding head. His whole body tingled uncomfortably with a sense of dark foreboding, like a kind of pins and needles- but in his mind. The ground beneath him was uneven and something small and pointy was pressing uncomfortably into his back, making him want to shift. But then the pain caught up with his sleepy mind and he dismissed the idea of moving immediately. Preferably for the next ten years or so.

The warlock couldn't suppress a groan as he crunched his face up, narrowing his eyes to stare into the darkness around him. It was completely silent, except for his gasping breaths. It wasn't completely dark though. There was a window above him that was slightly brighter, albeit it did nothing to light the otherwise pitch-black room. The light was even more limited by the bars in front of the window.

Well, at least there was no guessing about where he was being held. Merlin had always known that he would visit Camelot's dungeons one day, after all his lifestyle wasn't exactly safe, but in his imagination they had always dragged him here against his will, most likely after a long and hard fight. Never once had he though he would enter the dungeons willingly, only to be caught minutes later.

The warlock closed his eyes as the pain his his stomach increased suddenly, painting the world red and black and leaving him gasping on the floor. Each breath was like liquid fire burning through his insides. He narrowed his eyes, trying to concentrate enough to call upon his magic, but it was almost impossible. It felt as if the magic was hiding from him, just out of his reach, or hiding from the pain that built an invisible wall in his mind.

Merlin only noticed that he had been biting his lip when he tasted copper in his mouth and grimaced, trying to swallow with a too dry throat. It didn't really help and the taste only worsened with the next wave of pain, making his surroundings blurry as his eyes teared up. His fingers scrabbled at the hard floor beneath him as he tried to anchor himself against the pain, his whole body tensing.

The jingling was soft, so soft that he barely heard it, but when he did Merlin stilled abruptly, holding his breath as he tried to detect the source of the strange sound.

Nothing. The room was back to absolute silence.

Exhaling again as quietly as possible, the warlock forced himself to relax. _Chink._

Merlin stilled again, before it suddenly hit him. _His leg._ Of course. A small, painful movement of his head confirmed his suuspicion. There was a chain attached to his ankles, binding them together. Not so tightly that he couldn't move them, but enough that it would make running difficult. _As if he could run in his current state. _Oh, and then there were also the small runes that were etched into the cuffs. Magic binding shackles- so that was hy his magic felt so far away, dormant and hidden deep inside of him. It made sense, somehow- they would never be able to imprison real sorcerers without the means to suppress their magic. It was more than hypocritical.

Merlin closed his eyes, letting his head rest on the hard floor again as he tried to fight the dark feeling of desperation that threatened to overtake him. He had been in tight situations before, but it was a long time since he had last felt as helpless as he felt now, lying on the cold stone beneath the castle of Camelot. Without his magic, he was useless; he was nothing. A freak of nature, a monster.

How could he call himself leader of the druids if he couldn't save himself?

Freya would be so angry at him. She couldn't be happy that he had left with Arthur without telling her, but she might just have forgiven him if he had returned safely.

Had the Prince known about this? He couldn't believe so, especially since he had only told him that they would come here mere minutes before he had teleported them. But then, how had the guards known where to look? Was it a coincidence or had someone told them?

_Emrys._

Some of the other druids had known about his plans. Merlin almost didn't dare to think about it. _Was there a traitor in the camp?_ Someone trying to get rid of him?

_Emrys._

He refused to believe it. He had saved many of the druids himself, had risked his life countless times. Still, there was a small voice in his head that wouldn't stop whispering. _Have you not just discovered a plan to overthrow you, by the druids you like to defend so fiercely?_

_Emrys._

"What?," Merlin exclaimed, only to tense as the fire in his stomach flared up. He had to lie completely still for a few seconds, only concentrating on breathing as shallowly as he could, before he suddenly realized what had happened. Frowning, the young warlock turned his head as he tried to get a better look at his surroundings, concentrating on his peripheral vision that seemed to work better in the dark. Still, he couldn't make out anything, other than the window and some straw on the floor. Then he had an idea.

_"What?"_, Merlin asked again, this time in his mind. There was a long moment of silence. He had just convinced himself that the voice had only been his imagination, when it spoke again.

_"So you have finally chosen to hear me, after all."_

_"Who are you?" _Whoever it was, he sounded rather obnoxious in Merlin's opinion. It wasn't exactly his fault that he was bleeding out on the floor in a cold dungeon, was it?

_"I am the one who was sent to guide you and lead you towards your destiny, young warlock."_

Oh right, and also a bit too find of riddles. Just what he needed right now. _Who are you?_, he repeated, trying to put all his annoyance into the three short words. His invisible opponent only chuckled.

_"Always so fiery. I am your kin."_

_"I don't have any kin left."_ The though filled him with bitterness, but it was true. He had lost his last relatives years ago, before the druids had taken him in to be his new family.

The other replied promptly. "_You are mistaken, young warlock. I have been waiting for you to set foot in Camelot since the day of your birth."_ There was a pause, and a sigh. "_Unfortunately, your destiny has been changed by the ignorance of some people before you had the chance to follow it."_

Merlin frowned. He had never really believed in destiny- he preferred to live his life the way he wanted to, without a higher power that had foretold his whole existence and everything he would do. He was a free individual, not some kind of puppet of a mysterious 'fate', thank you very much. After all, if there was something like destiny, something right and just, why was Uther Pendragon still slaughtering innocent men, women and children? _Why did his parents have to die?_

The warlock was torn from his thoughts by the sound of a bird singing its first song somewhere near his window, natural and yet so very foreign from were he was lying in the dungeons, and he gazed up at the small square of sky that he could see. It was still dark outside, but the sky had already turned a dark grey-blue and it couldn't be long till the sunrise. By then he would have entirely different problems. Uther Pendragon surely wouldn't want him to escape again once he had recovered enough and would be able to actually fight the shackles- which meant that he would probably be dead by tomorrow, if he couldn't find a way to escape soon.

Reaching a decision, Merlin concentrated again on the strange voice. He could worry about things like destiny and fate later.

_"Whoever you are, I need your help or there won't be anyone left for your destiny. So please just tell me- who are you?"_

There was a long pause, before the voice replied, finally void of any amusement. _"I fear there lies the problem. I am a prisoner myself. My name is Kilgarrah, but you might know me as the Great Dragon."_

* * *

><p>He should have known it wouldn't be so easy. It never was, after all.<p>

A few weeks, even mere days ago, Arthur would have been happy to have a druid leader captured in the dungeons, awaiting his trial and inevitable death.

_Trial and inevitable death. _That sentence alone told him everything he had just discovered, or maybe had always known deep down and only chosen to ignore. Arthur huffed angrily. A trial should be fair, judging people who had hurt others in one way or another, bad people. People like the bandits from the forest. Not people like Emrys, whose only crime was to have been born with magic. Who always did what was best for everyone else, ignoring any risk he had to put himself in.

_It's a wonder he has lived so long, with that sense of self-preservation._ A wonder, or rather, magic.

The Prince couldn't help the slightly manic grin that had spread on his face for a second, before it was overruled by the seriousness of the situation again. If anyone had told him a few weeks ago that he would learn to accept and, even more, respect a sorcerer- who was also the leader of the druids that had kidnapped him- Arthur would have called that person a crazy fool or quite probably challenged him to fight for his honour.

And pretty much everyone else in Camelot thought the same way. Which meant he couldn't ask any of his knights or advisors for help in the matter, not even Leon, who was more like an older brother to him than a knight. And if he tried to talk to his father, to reason with him- as much as it pained Arthur to admit it- Uther would most likely let someone chain him until "the sorcerer was dead and Arthur free of his foul spell".

If at least the trial was a real trial, the kind where you were allowed to defend yourself and people listened to you and a judge would determine whether you were innocent or guilty. But in a sorcerer's trial, the end was already set before the trial even began. _So much for justice._

"We will hold a trial tomorrow morning," Uther had declared when they had sat together during dinner, "to rid the earth of this sickness. The people have to see what will happen if they learn magic or try to harm the Royal House." And: "I hope you are up for it, son."

"Of course," he had replied, the words tasting foul in his mouth. Uther had nodded proudly, and only Morgana had looked at him with a hint of curiosity.

"That's my son," Uther had said, smiling at him, and Arthur had nearly choked on his wine, even though it was the first he had had since his kidnapping and it tasted great. He did his best to cover it up with a cough, but Morgana's suspicion only got worse and she frowned at him. It was the kind of look she had often sent him during dinner, meaning she would ask him about it later when Uther wasn't around.

And if he lied or didn't answer, she would only continue her hunt for the truth until he gave in. If need be, Morgana was better at following trails than any bloodhound. Sadly, he had quite some first-hand experience with that.

"I hope they didn't treat you too badly?," the woman herself asked sweetly, tearing him from his thoughts. Arthur shrugged.

"It was nothing I couldn't handle." That wasn't even a lie.

Arthur had started to prepare himself for all the questions his father might ask as soon as he had made sure Emrys wasn't in immediate danger of bleeding out on the floor, but so far it was all for nothing. Uther hadn't asked him many questions other than if he knew where the druid camp was, how many druids there were and if he had discovered any of their other evil plans, to which he had replied truthfully that he didn't know anything other than that it was in a forest somewhere and, less truthfully, that he had spent most of the time in a tent and therefore hadn't seen how many druids belonged to the camp and what evil schemes they planned.

The King hadn't even questioned Emrys's motive to bring Arthur back to Camelot, pinning it on their fear of Uther's justice or another sort of evil plan that didn't work out. Arthur wasn't even sure why there were guards stationed down in the dungeons and he hadn't dared to ask yet, avoiding the whole topic as best as possible- which wasn't very good at all.

Taking another sip of wine, all Arthur had been able to do was hope that the meal would be over soon and then try to escape before Morgana cornered him, which he managed, but only just. Then the Crown Prince of Camelot spent the rest of his evening making plans to break a sorcerer out of the dungeons.

It was, Arthur felt, a bit of his own fault for having put Emrys in this situation in the first place, even though he had never asked to be kidnapped. Then again, if they hadn't taken him he would never have met Emrys. Which meant he would have continued to believe that all magic was pure evil without even questioning his father's words. Arthur wasn't sure which option was preferable.

He sighed. Yes, things really never were easy around Camelot.

Which was why he was standing in front of the door to Morgana's room right now, only a few hours after their meal with Uther and his successful escape from her questions.

The Prince took a deep breath before he knocked, preparing his most dazzling grin when the door finally opened to reveal the King's ward herself, clad in a beautiful green dress. She didn't look very surprised, he couldn't help but notice as he tried to hide the nervousness that was running rampage inside him.

"I need your help."

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><p><strong>Hope you liked it... review? ;)<strong>

**And (a little early) a happy new year to everyone! I hope you had a wonderful 2014- and wish you an even better 2015. May the odds be ever in your favor, may the force be with you, or simply good luck. :D**


	23. Chapter 22: Planning

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone:)  
>Again a bit later than I would have wished, but here is the next chapter... a little shorter than usually, but I can promise that the next chapter will be extra-long to make up for it.<br>As always, I want to thank everyone who has favourited or is following this fic, and especially a huge thank you for all the lovely reviews. They really make my day :).  
>Enjoy and please R&amp;R! :D <strong>

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. **

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 22: Planning<strong>

Morgana wasn't all that surprised to find Arthur in front of her door. She had known all evening that something was off, ever since he had returned from his captivity with the druid. She wasn't even sure why exactly- there was just _something _off about the way Arthur became quiet whenever Uther asked him about the druid camp, only giving away facts that felt like he had practised them in front of a mirror. Not even to mention the fact that there was absolutely no reason for the druid to return home with the Prince.

Of course Arthur could have behaved like that because he had experienced some sort of torture, physical or psychological, and didn't want to talk about it because he had to rest the big, strong, proud Prince.

Either way, she was curious, especially when Arthur had quickly excused himself and escaped when she had tried to talk to him after dinner. When she had gone to his chambers a little later, he still hadn't been there, which meant he was most likely somewhere on the top of Camelot's highest tower or in another one of his secret places that he thought she didn't know. Morgana hadn't bothered to tell him that she had found most of them when he was thirteen and she was ten, trying to make the best of this new life as the King's ward that had been thrown at her and roaming the castle tirelessly for several days.

But those places were his own, where he went to think about something that troubled him at the moment, so she had decided to let him keep his privacy. Even if she had found him, he would most likely just keep telling half-truths and disappear again until he was ready to talk about it.

So, Arthur being in hiding and herself still curious, Morgana had decided to do the next best thing and had walked straight to the dungeons- only to be held back by a pair of guards. She had tried everything- reasoning, even pulling her rank- but apparently Uther had become more careful since the druids had kidnapped his own son right under his nose. No one except himself was allowed to get close to the dungeon that held the druid.

The only thing she could do then was to return to her own rooms and wait until Arthur came to talk to her- which he would eventually. After all they had grown up like brother and sister and had often been the only friend to the other.

So Morgana hadn't even blinked when Arthur finally knocked at her door just before midnight. Instead, she simply opened the door wider, returning his smile as if she hadn't been sitting around and waiting for most of the night, burning with curiosity.

"Come in."

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><p>It took Arthur a total of three hours and twenty-six minutes to tell Morgana everything that had happened, which was mostly because he hadn't known how to start. How do you tell the person who has lived most of their life under a strict ban of magic, even fearing magical attacks every now and then, that you had not only accepted, but started to befriend a sorcerer? And even more so, one very, very powerful druid leader of the band that had captured you?<p>

In the end, he had decided to simply start from the very beginning, telling Morgana how the three druids had surprised him in his chambers and attacked him with their magic. Though he had fought like a hero (of course), he hadn't been a match against their teleportation spell, so they wounded him and took him with them into a forest. How he had woken up in a cave, only to meet sweet Freya and Emrys, who had hovered like a guardian behind the girl for most of the time. How he had heard Emrys defend him.

And especially, how they had had to move because of his father's men, when he had been captured by bandits and Emrys had saved his life, even at risk to his own, and how he had met the druid in his tent, been given a sword to train with and finally come back to Camelot. Only to be surprised by guards.

Morgana didn't ask any questions, listening intently. When he had finished, she didn't say anything for a few moments, staring into a distance and seemingly deep in thought. Finally, her eyes focused again and she gazed at Arthur, her expression unreadable. He did his best not to fidget on his chair like a school boy about to be reprimanded, but he couldn't help that his knuckles had turned white with tension.

"Well," Morgana started after another pause, that felt like an eternity even though it had been mere seconds, "how do you propose we break your friend out of the dungeons?"

Arthur did a double take. "We- wait, what?"

"I assume that's what you have come to talk about," Morgana explained patiently. "And it would be the only right thing to do. I'm not quite sure how exactly you managed to befriend a sorcerer, but apparently you have." She broke off, looking unsure, before reaching a decision and taking a deep breathe that sounded more like a sigh. "Look, Arthur, you know that I have never liked the burnings and executions. I don't believe that having magic automatically makes a person evil. Yes, it can corrupt, but so can ordinary power and wealth. When I was young, my father used to tell me that power was a double-edged sword- made to protect, but also to cut."

She smiled fondly at the old memory. Arthur was still speechless.

"So you won't- I mean, you aren't... you will help me?"

"Of course I will."

Suddenly there was a fierceness in her eyes that usually only appeared when she was arguing with Uther or protesting on behalf of some poor lad's rights, making their emerald green almost look like it was emitting sparks. Arthur decided he was very glad that she was on his side. Morgana could be outright scary if you provoked her, though of course he would never tell her that.

Instead, the Prince nodded slowly, trying to regain as much composure as possible. "I have been thinking about this all evening," he admitted. "If I don't help Emrys to escape, he will surely be killed, which would also lead to a war with his druid tribe that will want to avenge him. But if I do help him escape and Father notices my absence, he will think that I've been kidnapped again or that I'm under a spell and have gone completely crazy."

Morgana nodded her consent. "And it won't be easy. I've tried to see your Emrys earlier today and I was immediately stopped by guards. They listen to Uther's commands, and his only. I don't think they would even listen to yours, but if we do try and fail it will only make you even more suspicious."

Arthur sighed and rubbed his temples, where he could feel the beginning of a headache settle. This would still be a long night.

"We need a plan," he concluded warily. Morgana sighed, though her eyes were shining with cold determination.

"And we need it soon."

**I love the nice Morgana... :D especially when she's all determined and standing up for others and so on. What do you think? :)**

**Just a short warning: I might not be able to update again before March or even early April. We have a bunch of huge exams coming up, so I guess they'll eat most of my time... though of course I will still try. I hope you can forgive me... and still enjoy this fanfic. ;)**


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